


The Misery of a Speeding Heart

by tokyosstorm



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: 1990s, Bars and Pubs, Break Up, Britpop, Budding Love, Childhood Friends, Concert, Confessions, Crushes, Dating, Drama, Drinking, Drug Addiction, F/M, Falling In Love, Fame, Fights, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Interviews, Jealousy, London, Not NSFW but a little spicy, POV First Person, Past Drug Use, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Reunions, Romance, Rumors, Slow Burn, Television, This fic might get pretty long, Travel, Work In Progress, more tags to come, scandals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokyosstorm/pseuds/tokyosstorm
Summary: I'm not sure many people could say they know what it's like to find out your childhood best friend is now a musician after 12 years apart.-------"...I'll miss you."He almost seemed surprised by that. Flattered, even. He smiled, eyes softening as he turned his head to look at me. "I'll miss you too.""You better remember to call," I said, hitting him playfully on the arm. "I don't think I could go more than a day without talking to you."I waited for him to say something, but he didn't respond. Instead, he kept looking at me, holding direct eye contact that was making my heart race faster by the second. He seemed to be lost in thought, almost as if considering something, focus etched into his features.I could only imagine what was going on inside that head of his...





	1. Typical London

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 1994. 
> 
> I tried to keep most of the information about Blur and the Albarn family accurate, though some things have been changed/manipulated to fit the story. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

I often wonder how much Damon has changed since I last saw him. 

I mean, it's expected. He'd be 26 now, as am I.

This thought crosses my mind much more than I'd like. I think about him a lot to be honest. 

My parents and his were long-time friends, since before either of us were born. I lived a street over from them, so I saw Damon and his family all the time. I would spent countless hours at their house with him and his sister, and he would always try to spend the night at mine. Our parents always joked that we were joint at the hip, but that's exactly how it was. We did _everything_ together. 

It's hard not to get choked up whenever I think about him. Memories come flooding in like a broken dam and I can only sit back and let it ruin me.  
I can't help but recall the last time I saw him. It was in early August of 1982, when we were both 14. It was early in the morning, and I had snuck out to run--barefoot, at that--to his house and say goodbye. I remember hugging him tight on his doorstep and both of us trying _so_ hard not to cry.  
I hate thinking about it.  
I didn't want to leave him, and I felt guilty that I had to, even if it wasn't my choice. We had to move across the globe to the states after my dad got a new job that relocated him to New York. I went with him while my mum stayed in England to help care for my granddad, who had just fallen ill at the time. I constantly struggled between being excited to go to America and trying to cope with moving so far away from all the people I loved. Moving is never easy, let alone moving to another country.

Damon and I tried to stay in touch, but it just... Didn't work. I grew so depressed once communication ceased between us. What had I done? Did he grow bored of me? Did he move on? He was with me my entire life, and suddenly not having him there proved to be a major road block for me. I had lost my best friend forever, and there was nothing I could do. 

I had no choice but to adjust to my new American life without him.

It took me a long while to be okay again. I was a bit of a loner at my new school, very reserved and shy, and I often preferred to be by myself. I never spoke unless spoken to and very rarely participated. However, I wasn't always completely alone. I eventually made a few close friends that really carried me through my teenage years and into early adulthood.  
There was one girl who I quickly became friends with called Diana Saunders. I'll never forget her approaching me in class for the first time; she had fair skin, brown eyes, and permed blonde hair that framed her face perfectly. She radiated positivity and optimism and I was instantly drawn to her. She was a lovely girl, funny and warm-hearted, and we soon came to find we had a lot in common. It wasn't long before we were inseperable, and she undoubtedly became my new best friend.  
She still is to this day. I don't know where I'd be without her. 

After completing high school, I went on to university. Diana and I ended up committing to the same school, and she was my roommate for all 4 years. I even ended up going to grad school to get my masters. However, after uni, I almost instantly decided to save for another year or so to make the move back to the UK. Diana, of course, came with me. It was very comforting to have her there, even if the culture shock was more difficult to adjust to than she anticipated. We rented a flat together in London, agreed to split the bills, and Diana even brought her sweet little tuxedo cat, Mojo, to live with us. 

I was so glad to be back. 

Once we had finally finished unpacking the last of our things, we were officially moved in. I had managed to arrange my room in a way I was happy with and got all my clothes properly put away after busting my ass moving furniture and hauling boxes all week. Now that all the hard work was done and I could _finally_ get on with my life, I couldn't _wait_ to see my mum. 

I hadn't seen her face to face since my 18th birthday, when she surprised me by flying in to New York to visit me. I missed her terribly every day I was in America. Now that I was back in the UK, I vowed that I would spend as much time with her as I could to make up for all the lost years. 

Only... She didn't know I had moved back. No one besides dad did, actually. I wanted to surprise her.

I didn't have enough patience to wait until tomorrow to see her, so I made a bee line straight for the bathroom to get ready as fast as I could. It was only midday; I was really in no rush, but my excitement simply got the best of me. I hopped in the shower, quickly brushed my teeth, did my makeup, and threw on some jeans with a nice blouse. I was so excited I was practically bursting at the seams. Grabbing my purse from the couch, I slipped on my shoes at the door and grabbed my keys, finally ready to make my way out. "Diaaanaaa, I'm off!" I shouted whilst unlocking the door. Diana, barely audible over the music she was blasting from her record player, shouted back from her room.  
"Okay! Be careful, see you when you get back!"

With a smile, I closed and locked the door behind me, making my way to the car. It started raining right as I got in.

Typical.

-

I definitely forgot how bad London traffic was, but it was nowhere near as bad as New York traffic. It took a while to get to Colchester, but I finally managed to arrive before sundown. My mum decided to move in with her parents a few years ago when granddad's illness got worse. I really admired her commitment to helping him. She gave up so much--her job, her family, her free time--for it. I was never mad at her for not coming to the states with us. I understood, but that didn't mean parting from her hurt any less. 

I pulled up in front of my grandparent's house, trembling a bit from the excitement, and stopped to collect myself for a second. I had brought some sweets with me--just a simple box of some pastries I picked up from a bakery--as a gift. I knew they weren't expecting me, so may as well try to apologize for showing up without warning with some food. I got out of the car, locked it, and made my way up the small path to the front door. I knocked rather hard and waited for a response. 

Inside, I could hear the frantic barking of a small dog. Rosie, I thought to myself. My nana had the most adorable little maltese that she got as a Christmas gift a year or two after I moved. She loved that dog so much and always mailed me photographs of her. I had never met Rosie before, but I'm told she's an angel. I heard a muffled voice shush her from behind the door before it suddenly swung open, and I was face to face with my mum. Finally, after 8 years. 

She stared at me, shock evident on her face. I smiled and started laughing, tears welling up in both of our eyes.  
"Hi, mum." I said softly. She did nothing but fling herself towards me, hugging me as tight as she could.  
"My baby... My baby's here!" She cried, spinning me in circles while I tried not to drop the pastries, erupting into a fit of giggles. I then saw a familiar figure emerge from the doorframe.  
"(Y/n)? Oh, thank you, Lord!" I heard my nana say. My mum and I finally let go of each other, my nana rushing up to hug me as well. "What are you doing here? You... You didn't call!"  
"I know, I'm sorry," I explained, finally pulling back to look at them. My mum was wiping the tears from her eyes, the biggest smile on her face I had ever seen. "I wanted to surprise you. I brought pastries!"  
"Well, bring them in! Can't have you standing out in the rain."

I trailed into the living room behind them, setting the pastries on the table. My nana went to get some plates while informing me that my granddad was asleep, so I decided to wait for him to wake up later. The three of us spent some time catching up, eating some pastries and talking about our days before I finally told them.  
"Now that I'm finished school, I decided to move back. A friend and I have rented a flat in London. Actually, we just finished unpacking everything this morning."  
"You moved?!" My mum gasped. "Without telling us?"  
I laughed at her reaction. "Yeah, I'm back and I'm back to stay. Like I said, I wanted it to be a surprise."

We continued chatting. I told them about school, my friends, New York, the move, and they told me about granddad, politics, cooking, gardening, anything and everything they could think of. It was so good to finally be with them again. My granddad eventually woke up and joined us in the living room, munching happily on the pastries we saved for him. We were all reminiscing over some old stories when _it_ came up.  
The _one topic_ I dreaded.

"Well, (Y/n), do make sure to stop by down the road and say hello to Keith and Hazel! I'm sure they'd be delighted to see you after all this time."  
My stomach dropped. "Down the road? I thought... Don't they live in Leytonstone?" I asked. My mum shook her head.  
"Used to. They moved to Colchester not long after you and your father left for the states. Keith got the job as the head of Art and Design at Colchester Institute, so the kids went to Stanway Comprehensive. He and Hazel are just a few doors down."  
I nodded slowly, not saying anything. I felt ill after hearing that. Possibly my biggest fear now that I moved back was running into one of the Albarn's. My nana noticed my silence and spoke up, a bit concerned. "Are you alright, dear? You look like you've just seen a ghost."  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," I rushed. "I was just thinking. Um... How are they? Damon and Jess, I mean." I _really_ didn't want to ask that, but I didn't want them to see my discomfort and ask questions. I just had to fake being okay for the time being.  
"You don't know? Do you not talk to them anymore?" My mum asked. 

Uh-oh. I cringed at the question. 

"We, uh... Fell out of touch years ago. When I was 15. Damon just kind of slowly stopped talking to me and then... Vanished." That was all I could manage. "But, anyway, that's... That's not important. What have they been up to?"  
They all glanced at eachother, no one speaking for a second, which only added to my discomfort.  
"Well, Jessica is an artist--"  
"And a lovely one at that," my granddad interrupted. My mum pursed her lips and nodded in agreement before continuing.  
"Damon on the other hand, well... He's made quite a life for himself. Started a band a few years ago and they've really taken off."  
My brow furrowed in confusion. The Albarn's were a very musical and artistic family, no doubt, but it was hard for me to comprehend what exactly this new information meant. I didn't understand and it almost felt like my family was messing with me. I mean, having a successful career in music is _hard_ unless you're teaching it. "I... Didn't know that. What do you mean they've 'taken off'?"  
"I mean they're incredibly successful. Seems I can't turn on the radio without hearing a Blur song," my mum said with a gentle laugh. "I admit, I thought it was a bad idea on his part at first. He dropped out of acting school for this band, and we were all concerned about what he was getting himself into. But he really proved us wrong."

I didn't quite know what to say. The surprise had left me speechless and the information repeated in my head over and over as I struggled to process it. I don't know if it was because I lived in a different country these past 12 years or if they were merely exaggerating the success of this band of his, but I had never heard of Blur before today. 

We chatted for about another 10 minutes before I decided it was time to head home. It was starting to get pretty dark out and I knew the drive back to London would be a tedious one. After saying our goodbyes, I gathered my things and made it back to the car, starting on my way home in a daze. I spent the whole ride sitting in silence, somewhat afraid to turn on the radio in case a Blur song came on. That is, assuming I'd be able to recognize his voice. Those damn memories slowly start replaying in my head just like they always do. 

I wish I didn't ask about him. This was going to plague my mind for the rest of the night.


	2. The Vinyl Mile

I woke up some time in the late morning to a hard knock on my bedroom door.  
"(Y/n)? You alright in there?" Diana called from the other side. I sleepily turned my head towards the door, not ready to get up, and didn't answer at first. Her calls kept coming. Sighing, I stood up and threw on some shorts before trudging over to my door, where Diana was _still_ knocking. I slowly opened it a few inches, just enough for her to see me, and she smiled rather sympathetically. "Hey. Did... Something happen last night?"  
"No. Well, kind of? I don't know. Why?"  
"Well, for starters, you came home and immediately locked yourself in your room. Now you're sleeping in later than normal. It's almost 12."  
"Sorry," I replied, running my hand through my hair. I'm sure I sounded frustrated. I hoped she didn't take it as me being frustrated with her.  
"What happened? Were they not happy to see you or something?"  
"No, no, they were! They just... They brought up Damon and it really bummed me out a bit, that's all. I'm okay. I promise."  
"Oh... I'm sorry. But hey, it's over now, and I don't want to see you mope around all day. I was looking around and found some record shops in Soho I wanted to check out. You should come with!"  
I nodded, grinning a little at the offer. "Yeah, sure. Sounds nice."  
"Then start getting ready! I'll be waiting in the living room."  
"Got it."

I closed the door, making my way to my closet to pick out an outfit. I glanced out the window to see the sun beaming down through the clear sky, overhearing the weatherman on the TV in the living room say something about it being rather warm out today. I settled on my usual combination of a t-shirt and jeans, brushed my teeth and did my makeup as usual, making sure I had my wallet in my purse before Diana and I made our way out.  
I was quite excited to have this little girl's day. I really needed something to distract myself, plus it was a much needed break after spending the whole week moving in. It'd been years since I had last been to Soho, and I was so happy to walk about Carnaby Street again. We spent much of the afternoon popping in and out of different clothing shops, eventually stopping at a cute little restaurant for lunch, before stumbling across a decently-sized record store. We stepped in, greeted by rows upon rows of vinyl records neatly organized by artist, genre, and in alphabetical order. It was quite impressive. There was a good amount of people in there, so moving around was a little awkward, but Diana and I both quickly took to sifting through what they had to offer. There was an incredible amount of variety. I made my way up each row, eventually settling at the "C" section for a while to look for the Clash. After I had found nothing of interest, I let my eyes scan across the dividers before I saw it.  
A little white label in the new releases bin that read "Blur."  
I was hesitant to move towards it at first, instead standing like a deer in headlights. I hadn't even _thought_ about looking for a Blur record. I eventually forced myself to look, pulling out the first record I could grab. It had two dogs in a race on the cover, and in the bottom right corner it read "Parklife." I stared at it, flipping it over to read the track list. My heart stopped when I looked at the picture on the back.  
It was a picture of the band.  
Damon was seen from the side, wearing a tan jacket, his head buried in his arms. I couldn't see his _entire_ face, but I knew for certain it was him. He looked so grown up. The tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill, and I had to force myself not to cry and make a scene. I could only look at his picture with a blank stare.  
So he really _was_ a musician.  
I jumped at a sudden tap on my shoulder, clutching the album tight to my chest and quickly spinning around.  
"Sorry," Diana laughed. "Didn't mean to scare you. I found the Shocking Blue record I wanted! I can't believe they had it," she exlaimed happily. Her eyes shifted to the record in my hands, and she smiled, pointing at it. "You getting that?"  
"I--Yeah," I answered without thinking. Part of me wanted to buy it, and the other half told me to put it down.

Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but satisfaction brought it back. 

After paying for our new vinyls, we agreed to head home. Our feet were hurting and it was getting a bit late. The whole way back I could only think about the album and wonder what kind of music Damon would write. He was always a creative person, and I know his parents always listened to tribal music, but I severely doubted that that kind of music would be very successful in the UK. He liked a whole variety of different music genres, so guessing was pretty much a fruitless endeavor. I guess I'd just have to wait and find out.

Once we returned home, I made my way straight to my room to put the vinyl on my record player. Taking it out of the bag, I made sure to be delicate so as not to scratch it. I kept wondering if I would even be able to recognize Damon's voice by now. It'd been so long since I last heard him speak. What would he sound like now that he was an adult? Was his voice deep? Was it high-pitched? Was his accent still as thick as I remembered it? I was riddled with unexplainable anxiety as I pulled the record carefully out of the sleeve, setting it down gently, and dropping the needle. I moved to sit on my bed as I waited for the first song to start, the album jacket in my hands so I could read the back as I listened. It took a few seconds for the music to begin, and the first song, called "Girls and Boys," finally started. I couldn't help but bob my head slightly to the opening beat; it sounded very 80s, very electronic. It vaguely remined me of the disco music I heard while living in America. Then, after _12 years,_ I finally got to hear his voice again. All movement suddenly ceased, and I was transfixed on it.  
Wow. He sounded _way_ different, but it was still unmistakably him. He just sounded so... Grown up. That's the only way I seemed to be able to describe him. Mature. I stared at the picture of him on the back of the album jacket, trying to match the voice to the face, even if he was slightly hidden.  
I really wished it was a picture of his full face. I wanted to see what he truly looks like nowadays.  
I let the record play all the way through, listening to every single song and dancing quietly around my room to them. The whole album was _incredible_. If I had to choose, my favorite song was probably "London Loves." I found myself catching on to the lyrics rather easily and ended up singing along to what I could. I had never heard anything like this before. The lyrics were perfect, the songs were catchy, and Damon was an excellent singer. His voice was so unique compared to other musicians.  
It was no wonder why Blur was so popular.  
Right as the second to last song--"This Is a Low"--started, there was a light knock at my door as Diana popped in.  
"Hey! I heard some really cool music in here, hope you don't mind me intruding," she laughed, waltzing right in and falling next to me on my bed, listening intently to the beautiful song that just began. We sat together in silence until the chorus came on and her face lit up. "Wow. Cool voice. Who is this?" She asked, turning to me. I still held the album jacket in my hands, staring at the picture, and I didn't say anything. I simply pointed. In turn, Diana shuffled around to get a look at the man I was pointing to. "Who is that?" She asked.  
"Damon," I said. She didn't catch on right away, looking at me in slight confusion, waiting for me to elaborate. I didn't look away from the picture. I felt like I might cry if I did.  
"Wait..." She began, slowly putting the pieces together. "You don't mean... Your old _friend_ Damon... Right?"  
I didn't respond. I didn't know where to begin. Diana took the album jacket from my hands, scanning over the back cover. She located a small box on the bottom right corner that depicted the people in the picture, from left to right, and what their role in the band was. Clear as day, it read: 

"Left To Right: **DAMON ALBARN** \-- vocals."

She glanced at me with a look of shock. "Wait, (Y/n), is this actually him?"  
I nodded. "Yeah... That's him. My mum told me he was in a band now, says they're pretty popular. Since I saw it today I felt like I had to buy it."  
"That's... Really cool, actually," Diana said. "I mean, your childhood friend is famous! What are the odds?"  
In actuality, I now realize it wasn't really all that surprising that Damon ended up a successful musician. I always had a feeling he'd do great things as he was a very bright kid with a lot of ideas. 

After the final song ended, I popped the vinyl back into its jacket and moved to set it on my desk. Diana stood up and stretched, ruffling her hair as she walked to the door, her slightly oversized pajama bottoms practically falling off on the way. "Thanks for letting me hang in here, (Y/n). I'm off to bed. Try not to overthink too much, okay?"  
"I won't. Goodnight," I called as she shut the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room once more.

I suddenly remembered what my nana and mum had told me yesterday about Keith and Hazel living a few doors away. My brows furrowed as I became lost in thought, mulling over the information. Maybe if I went to visit, I could ask them about Damon and try to get back in touch with him. But, then again, what if something goes wrong?  
I couldn't help but be paranoid. "Try not to overthink," Diana said. Only problem with that is that I'm _notorious_ for having a strong tendency to overthink.

Sighing and slumping back down onto my bed, I decided to give myself the night to consider it.

I stayed up rather late, tossing and turning as I made a mental list of every pro and con to reconnecting with Damon, trying so hard to decide if going through the effort would even be worth it. He could hate my guts as far as I know. After all, _he_ was the one who stopped talking to _me._ Maybe he wanted nothing to do with me. 

I was still uncertain come midnight, so I just decided I'd make my decision by morning. With a heavy sigh, I threw the covers over my head and forced myself to finally go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: in the 90s, Carnaby Street was apparently called the vinyl mile because of the amount of record shops there.


	3. Jess

7 AM: I found myself on the motorway, sitting in traffic, very slowly making my way into Colchester. 

I was still a ways out, and traffic was horrible as usual, made worse by the fact there was apparently an accident near Chlemsford. While Diana was out job hunting, I was crawling along the road, bored out of my mind. I couldn't handle listening to the monotone voice of the weatherman on the radio anymore, so I alternated through the different stations looking for anything of interest. In the meantime I stared out the car window, observing my surroundings. I'd definitely be here a while. 

I more or less zoned out, mindlessly creeping the car up when I had to, and eventually started to play a game of I Spy with myself out of sheer boredom. However, I was suddenly snapped back to reality when I heard the now familiar opening beat to "Girls and Boys" playing softly on the radio for a few moments. It was followed by the radio host speaking rather jubilantly overtop the music. 

"Alright _girls and boys,_ " she started, my eyes rolling at the pun. "We are delighted to have one of Britain's greatest hopes for pop music, Blur, here with us today in the studio! So nice of you gents to fit us in to your busy schedule. Go ahead and introduce yourselves."  
I sat up straight in my seat, turning the volume dial up a few notches.  
"Oh! Uh, I'm Graham, and I play the guitar."  
"I'm Dave and I play the drums."  
"I play the bass guitar and I'm called Alex."  
"My name's Damon, and I'm the singer."

I could feel my heart jump in my chest. I sat back and listened for much of the ride as they talked about albums, inspiration, songwriting, and eventually, touring. This is what really piqued my interest.  
"How about touring?" The host asked. "What's coming up next?"  
"Well, I believe we're playing the Anson Rooms in Bristol in a few days," Damon said, sounding a bit unsure of himself. "Is that correct? Or did I just make that up?"  
"No, that's right. 12th of May," Graham quietly confirmed. From what I could gather through this interview, Graham seemed to be very soft spoken.  
"Oh, 3 days from now! Lovely," the host chimed. "Looking forward to it?"  
"We're quite excited, yeah. Tour's been going very well."  
"Excellent. Well, it appears we've run out of time, so thank you very much for joining us today. It was a pleasure! Make sure to get out to the Anson Rooms to see Blur, I'm sure tickets are going fast. You definitely won't want to miss out."

As the interview came to a close, the regular music resumed and I sunk back down into my seat.  
Bristol, huh?

-

It was around 9:45 when I finally made it to Colchester; I had been in the car for 2 and a half trecherous hours. I parked outside my grandparent's house once again, looking around for the house Keith and Hazel supposedly lived in. I phoned my mum not long before I left home asking for the address and whether or not she knew they would be home today. Pulling the slip of paper I wrote the info on out of my pocket, I got out of the car and walked around the street for a little bit until I eventually located the residence, which was across the road and five doors down from my grandparents. I couldn't believe I was _actually_ doing this. Part of me felt bad for disrupting them, but if I didn't get some kind of closure, this would bother me for the rest of my life. I took a deep breath as I approached, rehearsing different lines in my head, trying desperately to figure out what to say. I knocked politely, and about a minute went by before I heard the door unlocking from the other side, and it creaked loudly as Hazel swung it open. The noise startled me and I nearly dropped my keys.  
She looked me up and down, briefly, a polite smile on her face. "Hello, how may I help you?"  
I shuffled awkwardly in place, my anxiety suddenly spiking dramatically. She didn't recognize me. I had no clue what to say. "Oh, um... Hello. S-Sorry to bother you," I said, avoiding eye contact. I felt so unbelievably embarassed, and my stuttering only made it worse. "I'm (Y/n) (L/n). Do... You remember me?"  
She seemed to consider for a second, observing me closely as she tried to jog her memory. Her brows suddenly raised, eyes widening a little as it finally sunk in. "(Y/n)! Oh, please forgive me, my memory isn't the best," she laughed, pulling me in to a warm hug. I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders now that she remembered. Seeing her was a little emotional for me since she was almost like my second mother growing up, but I promised myself I wouldn't cry. "Look at you, you're all grown up! And your accent sounds very American," She marveled. "How long has it been now?"  
"12 years," I answered with a laugh. "It's so good to see you again."  
"And you as well! Come in, please. I'm afraid Keith is out, but Jessica is here! I'm certain she'd be very happy to see you."  
I stopped dead in my tracks right as I had crossed the threshold. Jess was almost like my little sister growing up. She was more often than not the tag-along with Damon and I, always wanting to go where we went and do whatever we were doing. I was always more than happy to see her, even if Damon often got mad with her for butting in and usually asked her to leave us alone. Despite that I always knew he loved his sister, no matter how much sibling rivalry occurred between them. The three of us always had a lot of fun together.  
Hazel shut the door behind me, leading me in to the kitchen before disappearing off into another room, seemingly to find Jess. I took this time to look around a little; the house was a tad small, but very cozy and simple. There were a few photos up on the walls along with some decorations here and there, but otherwise, everything looked very minimal. It felt just like stepping in to home again and I felt very relaxed.

"Care for some tea?" Hazel asked with a smile, returning briskly to the kitchen.  
"That would be lovely, thank you."  
Just as I took a seat, I heard light footsteps coming towards us from the hallway. Jess peered around the doorframe rather cautiously, but once she saw me, a hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped.  
"(Y/n)! Oh my God, it's you!" She exclaimed. She quickly made her way to me, arms wide open as she enveloped me in a tight hug. I hadn't seen her since she was 11 years old and she was such a beautiful young woman now. She was rather thin, her long, straight brown hair draping over her shoulders. I really didn't anticipate her missing me so much, so her reaction caught me a bit off guard, but it was very heartwarming. She took my hands, beaming as she sat down beside me. "What brings you here? It's been so long, how have you been keeping up?"  
"I'm alright," I laughed. "I just moved to London from New York. I was visiting my mum when she told me your parents lived on the same street and I thought I'd drop by and say hello."  
"Moved back? Really? That's wonderful! Maybe you and I could go for lunch some time and catch up," Jess offered.  
"Absolutely, that sounds great."

The conversations that followed were not unlike the ones I had with my mum and grandparents. Typical chatter about what we've been up to, about my move. I was more than okay with the filler talk, but I couldn't help the nagging feeling in my stomach knowing where our conversation would lead. It was clearly inevitable that Damon would be brought up, however I was not at all prepared for what Jess started the discussion with. There had been a few moments of comfortable silence before she spoke, and she was looking at me, her expression hard to read. 

_"Damon misses you."_

I nearly choked on my tea, unable to think of a proper response. Of all things she could've said, I did not expect anything like that. All I could get out was a shaky, _"Really?"_  
Jess nodded, and I was confused. She was being strangely vague about it. "I... I thought he hated me, to be honest," I said softly, staring into my cup. "I miss him, too."  
" _Hate_ you? Never," Jess said. "What makes you think he would hate you? You and I both know that he loved and trusted you more than anyone else."  
"Well, I mean, he just suddenly stopped talking to me," I explained, sounding a bit exasperated. "I tried to stay in touch but he just vanished. Without saying _anything_. I assumed he didn't want anything to do with me..."  
"Oh, (Y/n), that's not it at all," Hazel said from where she stood at the counter. She circled around to sit with us at the table. "Now, we know you didn't leave by choice, but he was upset about it. He missed you very much."  
"Believe me, he wanted to keep talking to you," Jess added. "But it made him sad to talk to you or about you knowing you were so far away and he couldn't see you anymore. I promise didn't stop talking with the intent of hurting you. He was just very upset."

I nodded slowly. I suppose I could understand that, though it still hurt me a little bit. He could've at least explained his feelings to me instead of disappearing without a warning or even a goodbye. I shook my head as if trying to wipe away the thought, knowing that if I dwelled for too long I would inevitably start to cry. I decided now that this was probably the time to try my shot at learning more about him. I cleared my throat, trying to get the words together. "So, um... How is he doing? I heard about Blur. It's... It's pretty incredible, isn't it?" I said, forcing a laugh.  
"He's doing alright. Haven't really spoken to him in about a week since he's been on the road a lot. Mum and I were going to see him in his next show in Bristol this Thursday," Jess said.  
I almost wanted to tell her about the interview I heard on the way here, but I decided not to. Instead I pretended this was my first time hearing about it. "I see. I hope you guys have a good time. Please tell him I said hello."  
"Will do. Or, actually... Why not tell him yourself? I can give you his number if you'd like, though I can't guarantee he'll pick up. He can only go home every now and then since Blur is on tour." Jess rose from her seat, quickly jogging out of the kitchen and into another room. "I'll write it down for you," she called. While I waited for her, it was just me and Hazel sitting together at the table. She placed her hand on my arm, patting softly, and I couldn't help but smile a little. Even without saying a single word, her presence was very reassuring and made me feel a lot more calm. Jess returned to the kitchen with a small piece of notepad paper, Damon's number scribbled onto it in blue pen along with another number down below it. "The second number is the bands manager's number. You'll have better luck reaching him through that," Jess explained. I stared down at the paper, almost in disbelief that this was really _his_ number. All I had to do was go home, pick up the phone, and dial it.  
Honestly? The thought scared me half to death.  
I tucked it away in my pocket.  
"I can tell him you're here as well," Jess offered, sliding another blank piece of paper across the table in my direction, pulling a pen out of her pocket and setting it down. "Could you leave me your number?"  
"Yeah. That would be great, thank you," I said, scrawling the digits down and and handing the paper back. I took a deep breath, smiling uncontrollably. "It means a lot."

I couldn't quite discern if what I felt was anxiety or happiness, but either way, I at least had his number, and he would soon have mine. 

This was _huge_ progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Blur really did play the Anson Rooms in Bristol on 12 May, 1994.


	4. An Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the narrator follows Damon in his Nottingham hotel room.

The sky outside was dark and clear, and the air was slightly cool as a gentle breeze swept by. Damon stood out on the balcony of his hotel room, a cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the railing, puffing away mindlessly at it while trying to keep himself awake. The band resumed their tour by playing Rock City in Nottingham; they had the last few days off, though no matter how much he tried, Damon just couldn't seem to ever feel well rested. Sighing, he let his tired eyes scan across the cityscape. His room was decently high up; not top floor, but nowhere near the bottom. He had a clear view of Nottingham below him. The distant sounds of car horns and sirens added to the ambiance, along with the faint noise of the radio that was on inside his room. He left the door connecting the hotel to the balcony open as he knew he would only be out for a few minutes to have a quick smoke before bed. He was just putting out his cigarette when there was a knock at his room door, and he turned his head to glance at it. The door was open--Alex had been in not 10 minutes ago after he had ended up taking one of Damon's bags to his room by mistake. Damon didn't bother to go and open the door himself, knowing it was still unlocked, so instead he called out "It's open" and leaned against the frame of the balcony door. He watched from across the room as it slowly opened.

His manager poked his head in, not stepping fully inside. "Your sister called. She said she wants to talk to you. Should I have her call your room?"  
Damon finally stepped back inside the room, shutting the balcony door behind him and proceeding to sit down on the edge of the mattress. He reached over to the bedside table to shut off the radio, which had the phone right beside it. "Yeah, that's fine. Thank you," he said with a nod.  
He sat watching the phone as his manager left, and he waited patiently, rubbing at his eyes as he grew more tired by the minute. He suspected Jess was just checking in again, as she normally does, or maybe she was calling to give an update on when she and their mum would be arriving at the Anson Rooms. He knew they had to work around some scheduling issues to make it anyway.  
Long story short, he didn't expect much from her call. 

The phone eventually started to ring, and he reached out to pick it up. As expected, he was greeted with his sister's voice.   
"Hello?"  
"Hey. Sorry to call so late," Jess said apologetically. "Hope you're not busy. Can we talk?"  
"Not busy at all," Damon replied, stifling a yawn. "Just settling in. Everything alright?"  
"Yeah, everything's fine. I just, uh... I ran into someone this morning. At mum's."  
Damon cocked a brow, swinging his legs up onto the bed and sitting back against the headboard. He silently wondered why she needed to tell him this. She never really called with news, nonetheless about other people, so this statement particularly caught his attention. "Alright. And who would that be?"  
"(Y/n)."  
His expression quickly morphed into one of confusion. His mind immediately thought of (Y/n) (L/n), but there was no way that could be right. She lived in America now, and they hadn't spoken in years. He knew Jess didn't have her contact information either, but, then again... He didn't know any other (Y/n)s. 

"(Y/n) _(L/n)?"_ He asked, his heart rate quickening a little. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt so anxious. Jess was probably just messing with him. 

Except, she wasn't.

"Yes."  
There was a long pause.   
"...Very funny," Damon said nervously, forcing a chuckle. He was unsure of what else to say.   
Jess was joking. She had to be.  
...Right?  
"I'm not kidding, Dee," she said. "I went to visit mum this morning and she came by. Says she's moved back to England. I just thought maybe you'd want to know," she explained. "I hope it's okay that I gave her your number. I just figured maybe you could give her a call and say hello. She said she misses you, you know."

Damon was suddenly at a complete loss for words. He stared up the the ceiling, the phone still pressed to his ear as he ran a hand through his hair. All of a sudden he felt wide awake.   
He really didn't expect to hear this tonight.   
A slight feeling of guilt soon came over him as he remembered the last few times he spoke to (Y/n). He had been very short with her, slowly distancing himself over the course of a few weeks before ultimately cutting her off.   
He always regretted that decision.   
He should've just sucked it up and properly said goodbye. They had grown up together, after all; she was with him all the time from infancy to his early teens.   
They were inseparable. And he just... Left her. All because his adolescent mind couldn't handle his own emotions and he was too afraid to talk about them. He left her alone, in a new country, where she knew no one. A time when she _probably_ needed him the most.   
The thought almost made him nauseous.

Jess took Damon's silence as an opportunity to elaborate on the encounter, since she doubted he really had much to say anyway. She knew he would be surprised to hear all of this. "I told her about mum and I coming to see you in Bristol. She wanted me to say hello to you for her but I thought you might want to talk to her directly instead."  
"I _really_ don't know if I can call her," Damon confessed, frowning a little. "I don't exactly want to get told off, you know? It'll just make me feel a hell of a lot worse."  
"Why would she tell you off?"  
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I _cut her off_ with no explaination?"  
"Damon, I already explained everything to her. She said she understands. She's not upset with you. I _promise_ you she's not."

He sighed and paused, trying not to let the frustration get to him.

He had an idea. Whether it was a good one or not, there was no telling. It may be a _bit_ forward, but he figured it was worth trying anyway. He stood up from the bed, phone still beside his ear as he rummaged through the nightstand drawer looking for a notepad and pen. He found them shoved way in the back, pulled them out, and hastily began to scribble some words onto it as he spoke. "Listen, Jess, could you maybe... Ask her if she'd like to come to the Bristol show? I'm sorry, I just... I can't ask her myself," He mumbled, struggling to speak and write at the same time. "I can talk to my manager and set aside something for her. Just... Tell her I'd like to see her. If she's interested, of course."  
"I'm sure she will be. I can give her a call tomorrow if you'd like."  
"That'd be perfect, thank you."

As they wrapped up their conversation, Damon quickly let his eyes scan over the note he had written on the notepad, making sure he put down everything he needed and had at least _minimal_ spelling errors. It read:

_"12 May, Anson Rooms in Bristol_

_Expecting guest called (Y/n) (L/n). Will likely be coming with my sister. Please find me as soon as they arrive at the venue._

_Damon"_

Once he hung up the phone, he ripped off the paper and went to carry the note down the hall to his manager. Along the way, he mentally asked himself if this was really a good idea, still half expecting (Y/n) to be upset with him. There was no way she _wasn't_ still angry with him. She had good reason to be, he thought.   
He just hoped that if she agreed to come, he could talk things over with her and fix what he had done. Maybe they could get reacquainted and even be friends again. 

He often used to wonder if he would ever see her again. Now, that day was coming much sooner than he ever expected.


	5. Open Invite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the last few chapters have been a bit short, including this one. The next one, however, will probably be a bit long. Thank you for reading!

I never called last night. 

I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I sat awake with the note clutched to my chest for what felt like _years,_ my hands trembling as I tried _so hard_ to will myself to just pick up the phone and make the call. I couldn't believe I finally had his contact information but still couldn't bring myself to face him. Every time I got the tiniest burst of confidence, I would pick up the phone, start to dial the number, and immediately hang up half way through. I was never the kind of person who liked confrontation of _any_ kind, so I still was too afraid of the possibility to talk. I wouldn't have known what to say anyways.  
It didn't take long for me to give up and just go to bed. 

It was now the afternoon, and I sat on the couch with my guitar in hand, strumming random chords to pass the time.  
I ended up playing something that sounded similar to the chorus of London Loves. I had taught myself guitar by learning to play by ear, so I was pretty good at figuring songs out without sheet music. Through a bit of trial and error, I eventually was playing the chorus pretty well. I hummed along, not wanting to sing since Diana was still sleeping.  
I had been listening to Parklife a _lot_ since I got it. I already knew the words to a few songs, and it was just about all I listened to.

I stopped strumming when I felt something press into my thigh. It was Mojo, Diana's cat, snuggling up next to me, softly purring as he rolled onto his side and stretched. Diana would never admit it, but Mojo liked me better than her, and I took _serious_ pride in that. I smiled down at him, rubbing his head a little as he finally closed his eyes to settle in. I decided to put my guitar down and let him sleep without any distractions, so I stood it up against the arm of the couch for the time being.

Standing up, I grabbed the TV remote from the table and flipped to the news before making my way to the kitchen. I had just started to make some tea when Diana emerged from her room, still in her pajamas, her hair sticking up in every direction. I tried to hold back a laugh, shaking my head slightly.  
"What's got you looking so tired?" I asked, watching as she flopped down onto the couch. Mojo lifted his head to look at her, a little annoyed, before curling back into himself and resuming his nap.  
"Haven't been able to sleep all week. My nerves have been _killing_ me," she groaned. "Job hunting is kicking my ass big time, (Y/n)."  
"You've got a masters in finance, Di. You'll find something."  
"Hopefully, but who knows. London is a lot to handle..." she grumbled.  
I giggled at that, getting two cups out from the cupboard to make her some tea as well. "Culture shock is really getting to you now, isn't it?"  
"Definitely. I mean, taking the tube is a nightmare! And having to go in and out of central London every day for work like that? Rough... But, you do what you have to do I suppose. I just hope I can find a decent job sometime soon."  
"Welcome to England," I teased. "It'll take some getting used to."  
Just as I had set down Diana's cup on the table, the phone started to ring. The two of us both turned to look at it, but Diana waved her hand as if to stop me.  
"I'll get it," she said, jumping up from her seat and quickly pacing over to the phone. As she began to talk, I tuned her out in favor of watching the news, assuming the call was probably in regards to a job she applied for. I had just taken my first sip of tea when Diana waved her arm to get my attention. 

"(Y/n)," she started, gesturing to the phone, "someone's on the phone for you. Her name is Jessica?"

I instantly tensed up, rising from my seat and taking the phone from Diana's grasp. Covering the transmitter with my hand so Jess couldn't hear me speak, I took a deep breath and said, "Jessica is Damon's sister."  
Diana's eyes widened, and she made an "Oh!" shape with her mouth, nodding to show she understood. I told her all of this yesterday evening, but I knew at the time she was too exhausted to really listen. Regardless, I reluctantly put the phone to my ear,  
unsure of what to expect. Diana stayed beside me, clearly trying to listen in.

"Hello, Jess?"  
"Hey! Not interrupting anything, am I?"  
"Not at all."  
"Brilliant. Because I have some news for you."  
Diana and I both looked at each other, the suspicious look on our faces identical.  
"Oh? Which is?"  
"I called Damon last night. He's in Nottingham at the moment," she explained. "I told him you stopped by and that I gave you his contact information."  
I gave Diana a look of disbelief, butterflies suddenly swarming in my stomach. She grinned back at me.  
"T-Thank you," I stuttered. "What... What did he say?"  
"...Are you free this Thursday?" Jess suddenly asked.  
"Thursday? Um..." I looked at Diana with uncertainty, silently pleading for help. She nodded furiously while mouthing _'Yes! Yes! Say yes!'_ , urging me to accept whatever was about to be offered. I turned my attention back to Jess. "Sorry, um... Yes, I'm free Thursday. Why?"  
"Damon offered to save you a ticket if you'd like to come to the Bristol show. He wants to see you."  
Diana gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. I didn't know what to say.  
"Wait, he... Really?"  
"Yes, really!" Jess laughed. "So? What'll it be? You can come with my mum and I so we can all go down together."  
I couldn't help but break into a smile. "That sounds perfect, I'd love that. Thank you so much."  
"Great! Then, if you could drive in the morning to mum's house in Colchester, I can meet you there. We can take the tube at 6 to Temple Meads and back. Does that work for you?"  
"That's fine, but, uh..." I shot a glance over to Diana, who had her brow raised in question. "Do you think I could maybe bring a friend? I'd just feel more comfortable that way."  
"I'm sure you can. I'll just have to let Damon know so he can tell management."  
"Wonderful, thank you."  
"Perfect. Then, until Thursday!"  
"Until Thursday," I repeated happily. 

I hung up the phone, turning to Diana with a massive grin. "I can't believe this."  
"(Y/n), this is _so_ exciting! You're finally going to see him again!"  
"Yeah, and you're coming with me," I added.  
"Wait, for real?"  
" _Obviously!_ Who else would I bring? Mojo?"  
"I'll be honest," Diana started, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly, "I'm really excited. I may or may not have borrowed your Parklife vinyl a handful of times since you got it. Blur is just... _Really_ good."  
I had to laugh at that. 

Sighing contentedly, I moved to sit back down at the table. I took a sip of my now lukewarm tea, imagining how Thursday was going to go. I had to make sure we left _extra_ early to get to Colchester in time, and God knows Diana loves her beauty sleep. Trying to wake her up may as well be a sport. She's a _very_ heavy sleeper.  
I still had all day tomorrow free with no plans, and I didn't know what exactly I should do in preparation for the concert. I had never been to one before.  
"Do I bring him something?" I suddenly asked. "Should I dress up? What's proper concert etiquette?"  
"We're _meeting_ them, (Y/n)! _Celebrities!_ Of course you should dress nice. Don't want Damon to see you looking like a bum, do you?"  
"Yeah, but I don't want to be _too_ formal, though..."  
"Alright. You, me, Soho. Tomorrow morning. We can get outfits, maybe get our hair done, and you can look for something to give him if you'd like. Then, when it's all said and done, we can get lunch. Sound like a plan?"  
"Why the hell not," I agreed with a shrug. 

Sounded fun enough for me. Though I appeared calm on the outside, I could hardly contain my excitement.


	6. Long Time, No See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skipped your and Diana's day out. It is now 12 May, 1994: the day of the Concert.

When I think of Damon, there are quite a few things that come to mind. Like church organs, glass beads, coal chutes, and football, to name a few. Though all are vastly different from one other, each has its own story and meaning to me.  
However, of all of these, two of the most prominent things that remind me of him are Brighton Beach and a song called "The Modern World."

It was July of 1979. We were 11 at the time and our families went on a joint holiday to Brighton, where we stayed for about 3 days. Brighton tended to be our go-to place mostly for convenience purposes; my parents couldn't really afford to travel elsewhere. My dad had a typical office job whilst my mum worked as a door-to-door saleswoman. Neither job payed very well, so we couldn't always afford to go too far away. It wasn't really a big deal, though, as my mum and I loved going to the beach.

I remember it was our second day there. We had two hotel rooms, one for the adults and the other for us kids to stay in. It was no doubt that Damon, Jess, and I would stay up late, especially since we had a whole room to ourselves. Since we were on holiday, our parents allowed it just this once (if we stayed relatively quiet).  
My dad had brought a portable record player and some 45s down and let us use it so long as we promised not to break it. Of course, Damon had to bring some 45s of his own, one of which being "The Modern World" by The Jam. Our parents had gone to bed some 30 minutes beforehand, and he retrieved it from his belongings as Jess and I put the record player on the nightstand.  
"I have something to show you," he had said, quickly rushing past us to put the record on.  
"What is it?" I asked.  
"'The Modern World' by a band called The Jam. They're really good, trust me! You'll like it."

From that night onward, "The Modern World" had become our song. We played it all the time, singing loudly and dancing to it and just having fun. It was Damon who got me into The Jam, and I could never listen to them without thinking of him. "The Modern World" was one of those songs that the second we heard it, we would quickly look at each other with massive grins, singing our hearts out.

Amongst the hustle and bustle, we all rushed to get onto the tube and I clutched a vinyl copy of the album "This Is the Moden World" by The Jam tightly to my chest. When Diana and I went shopping in Soho yesterday, we just _had_ to stop by a new record store and see what they had. When I found The Jam in one of the bins, I instantly knew that I wasn't leaving without a record to give to Damon. It was the perfect gift, but I just hoped he didn't already own it. I knew he only owned 45s of The Jam when we were kids. 

Besides the record, on our little day out yesterday we spent a good amount of time picking up new outfits for the concert. Diana had her blonde hair curled perfectly and she wore jet black eyeliner, flecks of green and gold eyeshadow making her brown eyes pop. She wore a pair of slightly-oversized jeans and a pale yellow tank top with a jacket; the clothes complimented her very well, and I thought she looked great. I on the other hand had opted for a simple black and red tracksuit jacket with jeans and my usual pair of converse. The only makeup I had on was some thin eyeliner and lip gloss. I felt particularly pretty today, and that's always a plus, giving me an extra boost of confidence I knew I would need later. 

The overall journey to Bristol took a good amount of time. Diana and I had to drive to Colchester first, so we woke up at 4:30 and drove 2 hours. Then we got on the tube at 6 and ultimately arrived at Temple Meads just before 10.  
The day had barely begun and I was honestly already exhausted. 

Doors didn't open for the concert until later tonight. To kill some time, we all decided to get something to eat and do a little exploring before we went to the venue. I had never been to Bristol before; it was beautiful and the weather was perfect. The architecture of the city was stunning and the River Avon flowed calmy through, making the city feel like a living canvas. While I was away in America, I forgot just how beautiful England was, and just how much I truly missed it. It would always be my motherland, even though I greatly missed the states, and a sudden feeling of pride washed over me in that moment. I smiled to myself as we wandered about, the reality of my circumstances finally hitting. I wasn't just on holiday; I was home for good. 

I couldn't help but keep checking my watch as we explored. Every hour that ticked past made my nerves grow worse and worse, the feeling of butterflies in my stomach so intense it was nearing on painful. I had to keep shrugging off the comments of "Are you alright?" and "Do you feel ill?" while silently hoping that tonight wouldn't be a disaster. I know Jess already explained that Damon didn't cut me off with the intent of hurting me, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that I _must_ have done something wrong. Something to warrant it. I was stuck with the feeling that he hates me and I couldn't get rid of it. I wanted _so badly_ to believe what I was told, but this mentality had been drilled into my brain time and time again over the years, so I couldn't just snap my fingers to magically make it disappear. 

If only it were that easy. 

We arrived a tad early at the Anson Rooms to see crowds already beginning to gather. There were promotional posters for Blur plastered all around the street, though I struggled to get a decent look at them since so many people stood in the way. I felt my excitement and anxiety intensify as we eventually made our way around the crowd to get in; Jess and Hazel spoke to security, explaining who we were and that Damon was expecting us, and we were led back to part of the venue after waiting a few minutes. My breathing began to quicken as I became excessively nervous, and I tried to subtly take deep, slow breaths to calm down. It wasn't really helping much, but I kept doing it anyway as a way to comfort myself. 

The actual venue itself was longer than it was wide, but it still allowed a lot of space and had a good holding capacity. This show would probably be a big one. I was in awe, never having been to a concert before; I was captivated by all the lights and equipment being moved around and set up on stage, from amps and drums to keyboards and microphones. Jess called after me, noticing I was lagging behind a little since I kept stopping to watch the crew, so I apologized ran back to the group. We were led backstage by security where we were then met with a long, narrow corridor. There were doors on every side and we tried to stay out of the way of the crew frantically running back and forth down the hall. I clutched my record even closer to my chest as Diana fell in step with me, letting Jess and Hazel walk slightly ahead. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder.  
"Hey. You look really pale. Nervous still?"  
"Incredibly..."  
"Don't be," Hazel said, turning back to glance at me with her warm trademark smile. "It'll be alright (Y/n). He wanted you to come, after all."  
"I know. It's just... Nerve wracking."

We stopped in front of a door which had a small sign on the wall just beside it. It read "Blur" in plain letters, so I asked Jess if this was the dressing room. She confirmed it was, and said that Damon would be out in a minute. 

My heart began to pound in my chest and it felt like a lump of coal was stuck in my throat. After 12 years of being separated by the vast atlantic, we were now only separated by this door. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that he was there on the other side, or that I was here to see him and his band. He had climbed the ladder of success and became a big-name popstar all while I was going to school in America. After years of wondering where he was or what he was doing, _this_ was the result.  
And now, we were about to be reunited.  
I couldn't even imagine what he would look like. I had only seen that picture of him on the Parklife album, and I couldn't really discern too much from it since his head was buried in his arms. I could only imagine that blond-haired young boy that I knew growing up, the one I saw in all of the childhood memories that I so dearly clung to. My mind almost refused to accept we had grown up.  
I tried to stifle back my emotions as I heard the handle on the door jostle, prompting me to duck away slightly behind Jess when the door finally opened. Turning so my back was to the door and I was staring at the ground, I silently started to panic. 

I listened as Jess and Hazel greeted him, and Diana politely introduced herself. I could hear him utter a soft "hello" to them, and I noticed his voice sounded much deeper than I remembered. I was still hesitant to look up, almost hoping I would just somehow turn invisible, until I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.  
I turned around, and there he stood.  
"Hello," he said with a grin.

I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. We stared at each other, both of us bearing a similar expression of shock.  
He was... _Really_ handsome. 

His once light blond hair had faded into more of a dirty blond, and his haircut suited his face well; he had a slight fringe that just barely reached his eyes, the rest of his hair short and tidy. It appeared to have been recently cut. Around his neck was the bead necklace his mum made when he was 6, and seeing he still wore it really made me smile. His eyes were the same gorgeous blueish-green that I remember always being jealous of, as Damon always had the prettiest eyes.

Everything about him was always just that: _pretty._ Sometimes, when we were young, he was accidentally mistaken for a girl. Now that he was mature he was unbelievably handsome.

I could feel myself turning pink. I didn't know what it was that I was feeling. My emotions were all jumbled up and I couldn't think straight. Damon pulled me into a hug, and I curled up into him, hugging tightly back. This felt so surreal and I couldn't believe I was finally seeing him again. Pulling away from our hug, I suddenly remembered the vinyl sitting in my hands.  
"Oh! Um, I got this for you," I said, wiping the tears out of my eyes, trying to calm myself. "Hopefully you don't already have this," I laughed, nervously holding the record out to him. He took it and smiled.  
"Oh my God..." He softly chuckled, observing it. "The Jam... Brings back a lot of memories doesn't it?"  
"Exactly."  
"Thank you," he said, giving me another quick hug. "That was very thoughtful. I... Can't believe you're really here. How have you been?"  
Diana, Hazel, and Jess were all watching us with smiles. It made me feel a little nervous.  
"I'm alright. Diana and I just finished moving from New York a few days ago," I said, subtly jesturing to her. "Been getting reacquainted with London."  
"Your accent sounds very American," he noted with a grin. "Not completely, though. Just a bit."  
I could once again feel the heat rising in my face. Damon had a beautiful voice and an even better smile. It made me weak at the knees and I couldn't seem to stop staring at him.  
It was then that I realized _exactly_ what I was feeling.  
That telltale twinge, that rush of adrenaline that shoots through my chest and makes me feel dizzy and nervous. That feeling that always hit me like a ton of bricks when I least expect it to.

I was developing a crush on him. And _bad._

We continued to chat for a good while, retelling old stories and asking each other questions about our lives. It didn't take very long before Damon and I were talking and joking a lot like we used to, almost as if these past 12 years of not seeing one another never happened. We were still very similar and we got on well even as adults. I was really having a lot of fun talking with him, and I was glad that I didn't say no to coming.  
Damon eventually took us all into the dressing room, where Diana and I were introduced to the rest of the band. 

First was Dave; he had fair skin and short, bright red hair. He was thin and had a very defined face with blue eyes and low brows. He was pretty quiet in comparison to the other two, and he was very polite as well. He sat curled up at one end of the sofa, reading some magazine he had pulled off the table.  
Next was Alex. He had long, swooshy dark hair that nearly covered his deep brown eyes. He had a sharp jawline and was very lanky, and he smiled a friendly smile as he introduced himself with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He just put on a deep blue sweater, smoothing it out with his hands as he observed his reflection in the nearby vanity mirror.  
Finally came Graham. I immediately recognized his voice from the radio interview I heard in the car the other day. Graham had short brown hair and wore thick black glasses that rested high up on the bridge of his nose. He was quite cute, also tall, and he was, in fact, rather soft-spoken, just as I imagined he would be. He held a can of beer in his hand and had a guitar laying in his lap. He seemed to be a bit drunk and slurred his words every now and then. 

They were all lovely people, and I like to think I made a good impression. I especially liked Graham--despite him being tipsy--as he and I seemed to get on well. We all talked for a while until it was nearing time for the show to start, so we had to leave and let them finish getting ready. We headed back out to the stage and I was excessively giddy, still beaming after meeting the band.

The concert itself was one of the best experiences I had ever had before. The amount of energy in that one room was incredible; everyone moved and sang loudly along to every single song, lights flashed and danced all about the room, and the guys sounded great. They sure put on one _hell_ of a show. I had a feeling I would go deaf due to how loud the music was, but nonetheless, I still had a blast. I was so unbelievably grateful to have been given the opportunity to come here and see Damon again; I couldn't explain the happiness I felt now that we were reunited and all went well.

I watched him perform up on stage with an overwhelming feeling of pride washing over me. I was _so_ proud of him. He was making history without even realizing it.

We met back up briefly after the show, in which he pulled me aside to speak with me in private. He asked if he could call me sometime, and I of course told him yes. I was relieved that he didn't hate me, and I was so excited to start seeing and talking to him again. He gave me one final hug before we parted for the night, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek that made my heart beat wildly and caused my face to turn red. 

I went home very happy that night.


	7. Of Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! I'm back with another chapter. Also, I'm uploading this on the 23rd of March, so a very happy 51st birthday to Damon!
> 
> It took a while to write because I started losing motivation and my writing wasn't coming out to my standards. I was really close to abandoning this fic since I'm not really sure if people like it, but decided against leaving it unfinished. 
> 
> I hope those of you who read this far are liking it! Please leave a comment if you do. Comments always encourage me to keep writing. 
> 
> Forewarning that--with what I'm currently planning--this story may eventually take a darker/serious turn. Only temporarily though! Please keep that in mind in case it's something you'd rather not read. 
> 
> Thank you!!

It was currently the 19th, officially one week after the Bristol show.  
Since then, Diana found a job as a secretary in Central London, and I recently picked up work at one of the many record stores in Soho.  
"Inner Groove" was it's name--It was a decently sized building adorned with all sorts of posters and lights, and within it was a colorful and carefully decorated interior that included an entire section of the store dedicated to other music merchandise such as cassettes, t-shirts, pins, CDs, patches, posters, and every other kind of memorabilia you could imagine. It was really a music lover's heaven in there, so I felt right at home each time I stepped through the door, greeted by the chime of bells and the sound of music. My coworkers were nice, and I especially got along with a girl called Maya Akamatsu. Maya was quite the character; the 23 year old daughter of Japanese immigrants, she had shoulder-length black hair and always came to work wearing her signature bright red lipstick and gold septum ring. Maya was rather tiny, standing about 4'10" and weighing no more than 7 stone, but don't let her size fool you: she had a big personality. She was rambunctious, talkative, and loud, but honestly, that made working with her even more enjoyable, and I looked forward to seeing her every time I went in. She always made me laugh and our conversations came very naturally, so I never felt alone when I went to work. 

Overall, I was rather content with the way things were going at the moment. Damon and I had phoned each other every night since Bristol. We talked about any and everything imaginable, staying up till the early hours of the morning just chatting. He was very open and laid back, which I appreciated, and it made talking to him easy. Granted, it was hard to manage the butterflies that rose in my stomach every time the phone would ring, and I was almost embarrassed by how giddy I became whenever he called, but I just couldn't help but look forward to hearing his voice every night. Talking to him brought me peace, and I sincerely hoped he felt the same--being on tour and away from your friends and family for so long had to be pretty lonely sometimes. I hoped I could offer some kind of comfort by being there when he wanted to talk. 

In fact, Damon and I spoke just last night for a good 3 hours or so, and he told me that Blur was playing that night in London. He had asked me if I'd like to come visit his flat tomorrow (alternatively, today) as the band had a day off. I eagerly accepted the offer and was currently getting ready to leave work and head over, grabbing my bag from the back and searching for my keys. 

I was startled by a sudden thud from behind me which made me jump, and I heard Maya snickering at my reaction. She had loudly dropped a box of cassettes on the counter to scare me, and the harsh rattle of the tapes being jostled around was loud enough that it startled a few customers, too. I lightly smacked her on the shoulder, only making her laugh more.  
"You seem pretty eager to get out of here, yeah?" She asked, leaning against the glass counter beside me. "Why in such a hurry? Don't you like me?" She teased, feigning offence as if the action was personal.  
"Shut it, Maya, you know you're my favorite by far," I laughed, slinging my bag on my shoulder. "I recently reconnected with my childhood best friend, so I'm going to his flat to see him since it's his day off. Just... Eager to get there I suppose."  
"'He'? Oh, it's a 'he', eh?" She grinned, elbowing me playfully in the side. "What's his name? Is he cute? Do you fancy him?"  
I must have been turning red judging by Maya's outburst of giggles. Subtly hiding my face as I quickly made my way to the door, I was determined to avoid this sudden game of twenty questions. "He's just a friend!" I called in defense; no _way_ was I admitting my newfound crush to her.  
"I'm _sure_ he is!"

Luckily his flat was approximately a 15 minute drive from where I worked, so I wasn't in much of a hurry. Damon never actually gave me a set time to come over--I told him I had a shift today and he merely said to come "after work." I took advantage of the vagueness and drove around aimlessly for a while, as I often did. Though I was perfectly comfortable taking the tube, I liked driving--especially while listening to music. I would often just drive around with no set destination and simply think for a while. It helped me "reset" my mind.  
During the ride I tried to calm myself down, not wanting to appear on Damon's doorstep a flustered mess, but I found myself feeling nervous anyway. Maya's teasing really got to me, and I wish it hadn't; my feelings were jumbled enough as it was and I didn't want this budding crush to ruin everything. We were _just_ starting to get reaquainted, and I'd never forgive myself if I fucked everything up. I tried to push it back in my mind and repress my out of control emotions, though I wasn't very successful. 

The drive went by quick and I soon found myself parked in front of a somewhat large, rather nice looking building. It looked similar to the other buildings on this street, all made of the same consecutive deep red bricks and adorned with charming white accents. However, his "flat" was not _really_ a flat, but a proper house. It had a solid jet black door and a small concrete stoop that led up to it. The street itself appeared clean and well-kept, and only a handful of cars cruised by every few minutes. It was generally quaint and peaceful in this little neighborhood, and I loved it.  
I followed the staircase up to the front door and knocked firmly, only to jump when the door finally began to open. I picked my head up as I tried to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. 

When it opened, I saw Damon was fidgeting and looking down towards the floor behind him, the door only open enough for me to see his face. He seemed to be struggling with something, but I couldn't tell what was happening.  
"Is everything alright?" I asked, peering in the door with a grin. It was kind of funny. "Need help?"  
"Hello--Sorry," he quickly stated, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, "My cat's trying to run out. Um, here--" he started, turning to pick the animal up. "Come in, please," he said, opening the door fully and stepping aside. I giggled a bit and thanked him, stepping in slowly and waiting for him to close the door. I looked around a bit while he did.  
"Glad you could make it," he said, turning back to face me. I finally got a good look at him this time; he looked pretty tired, which I didn't doubt. From the things we've discussed on the phone, I think its safe to assume he's been overworked recently, yet he still claims he's fine. But I knew the truth--he never liked having nothing to do. He explained to me a few nights ago how he felt like he always needs to be doing something productive. Because of this, he almost _never_ gets a decent amount of sleep, and what with all the shows Blur has been playing and the interviews they've been doing, he doesn't seem to realise he's overworking himself and needs a hell of a lot more than a skimpy 2-day break.  
His eyes seemed a bit heavy and he spoke softer than usual, exhaustion evident in his voice. In truth, he looked rather cute with his sleepy, half-lidded eyes, slightly messy hair, and a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you for inviting me," I said, watching as his cat came up to sniff me, poking around cautiously for a moment before deciding I was no threat and rubbing against my leg happily. "Aww, what's your cats name?" I doted, stooping down to pet it.  
"Benjamin. I think he likes you," Damon observed with a smirk. "Odd... He never really takes to strangers."  
I smiled as Benjamin continued to weave around my legs, taking particular interest in a loose string on my boots and playfully swatting at it with his paw. I wasn't really surprised he accepted me so quickly; Diana used to call me a cat whisperer since they always seem to be drawn to me.  
"Well, Benjamin, I quite like you, too," I said as I stood, observing my surroundings before turning back towards Damon. "You've got a lovely home."  
"Thank you. Just moved in actually. And speaking of which, I found some things to show you," he said, walking off towards a side room. He ushered for me to follow him, and I was led into the living room. 

Gawking around while Damon went to search through a box placed on the sofa, I slowly paced around the room to view various photographs hanging on the walls, peer into half-emptied moving boxes, checking out the random assortments of knick-knacks kept up on pristine looking shelves and even sneaking a look at some notebooks strewn across a wooden desk, appearing to contain either scrapped or unfinished song lyrics. I took it that area was his work space, and I especially found myself drawn to a black casio keyboard set up against the wall, as it was the same type of keyboard that I used to have when I was 16. Unfortunately it stopped working after a few years. 

I was pulled away from my thoughts by Damon calling me over to him, so, taking one last glimpse around, I turned and went to sit beside him on the sofa. He held the cardboard box on his lap, a few miscellaneous items he had taken out resting beside him. "I forgot I had this box in storage until I moved here. Initially I thought it was just a bunch of rubbish before I opened it. It's got some things that might look familiar to you," he said, shooting me a look as he held up a small bracelet. I couldn't help but laugh, my hand moving to cover my mouth. He, too, started to laugh; the bracelet was just big enough to fit the wrist of a young child, small threads of blue, orange, black, and white carefully weaved together in a simplistic pattern. The bracelet was worn and the colours were slowly starting to dull with age. I distinctly remember the bracelet being a gift I had made for him when we were very young, like a friendship bracelet of sorts. I spent a whole week trying to learn how to make them--hounding my friend Emma to teach me--and after _many_ failed attempts, I had finally gotten it down. The bracelet was admittedly not the most aesthetically pleasing to look at, very obviously made by an amateur, but I was proud of myself nonetheless. Even as a child Damon understood the intention behind it and appreciated it regardless of how it looked.  
He wore it until it didn't fit him anymore, which came when he hit a major growth spurt around the age of 13. I remember him bugging me to make a new one that _would_ fit, which I never did, insisting my abilities at making them were too poor to produce anything good enough.

Next he pulled out a small, pale blue photo album. It was plain and had no words on it, but it appeared rather full. "I haven't actually looked through these yet," he said, glancing over it. "I remember mum giving me this photo album when I first moved out. I think it might just be baby pictures, but I haven't seen this in a long time, so I can't really recall what's in it," he explained as he thumbed through the pages. 

There were dozens of pictures inside the thin sleeves--about two per page--and I was surprised to see I was in a good chunk of them. There were pictures from our first day at school, joint family vacations, birthdays, Christmas, and dozens more. He smiled as he observed them, eyes becoming bright and attentive, telling me about all the stories connected to each image as if I hadn't been there myself. Who took it, where, what we did that day--I leaned in closer to him to get a better look at the pictures when my head just barely bumped into his shoulder. I immediately tensed, but instead of pulling away, I unconsciously decided to let my head rest on his shoulder, my body pressed right against his side. He wordlessly let me stay there, resting his own head atop mine just enough to be noticeable. We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying each other's company, not even needing to speak. Everything in that instance felt so... _Right._ I couldn't explain it.

I suddenly heard a thud from my left and Damon immediately stood up, which caught me off guard. Initially I thought the sound was just Benjamin knocking something over in another room, but I turned towards the source of the noise to see a woman standing in the living room doorframe. She had a coat on, her orange t-shirt barely peeking out from underneath, and a black bag was slung over her shoulder. I took it the noise was her closing the front door. 

Damon immediately went to greet her, kissing her softly on the cheek and taking her hand. He spoke quickly to her in a low, hushed voice, and I couldn't make out what they were saying. I had never seen this woman before; she had very dark hair that was longer in the front than it was in the back, cut in a way that was similar to a pixie type style. Her expression was noticeably bleak, almost anxious, dark brows knitted together as she forced a tight-lipped smile.  
"(Y/n), this is my girlfriend Justine," Damon explained as he gestured to her. "Justine, this is (Y/n). She's an old friend of mine."  
I flinched, his words almost seeming to sting a little. Of _course_ he had a girlfriend. I swallowed my pride and stood to greet her, only to recieve a dodgy look, her eyes burning into me. I take it she saw Damon and I a little too close to each other on the sofa and got suspicious.  
"Nice to meet you, Justine," I said with a small wave, trying to be polite. "How are you?"  
She didn't answer, instead nodding curtly to acknowledge my presence before immediately turning her attention to Damon. "Anyway... I'll be upstairs," she said, apparently trying to wrap up whatever quick conversation they had upon her arrival. She began to turn on her heel to leave when I noticed Damon quickly becoming annoyed, his brows furrowed and smile dropping as he whispered to her. This time I could hear him, though just barely; I picked up the photo album from the sofa and pretended to sift through it so they wouldn't know I was listening.  
_"Don't be like that,"_ he scolded her. _"The least you can do is be polite."_  
_"Can I just go upstairs now?"_  
_"Justine, you know how I feel about you--"_  
_"Let's not talk about this now, okay?"_  
I could tell Damon was getting upset. _"No. I'm not going to let you go up there and--"_  
_"I'm going upstairs,"_ she firmly insisted before disappearing around the corner. I could hear her trudging up the stairs, followed by the sound of a door closing and Damon's heavy sigh of frustration. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed silently under his breath.  
"Sorry about her," he said, turning and sitting back down beside me on the sofa. "She's, well... We've got a lot going on right now."  
"No need to apologise. I understand," I reassured, gently taking his hand in mine. I felt like I shouldn't--fearing Justine's suspected jealousy--but I wanted to comfort him somehow. "Do you need to talk about it?"  
"No, no," he insisted, "I'm sure things will be fine eventually. I hope. I'm... Sorry you had to see that."  
"It happens. I'm always here if you need to talk, you know. Don't ever hesitate to call me."  
"Thank you," he said, squeezing my hand reassuringly. He looked me in the eyes, a small but warm smile on his face, and I returned the look. I could feel my heart leaping for joy. I so badly wanted to lean in and kiss him, but I knew better.

I couldn't believe I didn't even _think_ about the possibility of him having a girlfriend. He's 26 years old, incredibly handsome, and the frontman a majorly successful band. Of _course_ he's taken. 

He told me a little about Justine, about how they met and how long they've been together. I learned she herself was a musician, being the frontwoman of a band called Elastica, which explained the dark circles under her eyes and her overall tired demeanor. I assumed she wasn't getting much sleep either. 

I tried my best to be nice, but she just didn't seem to trust or like me. I was honestly a bit hurt by that. Regardless, Damon and I tried to put the incident behind us and enjoy going through the boxes of momentos in the living room, Justine doing God knows what upstairs and out of sight. 

She was silent the rest of the night, and I didn't see her once.


	8. Wait It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter is shorter than I'd like,,  
> Next chapter will be a lot better I swear lmao)

26 MAY, 1994.

Another week had already flown by. 

It was particularly dreary outside today, and the sound of heavy rain against the window mixed with noisy chatter and MTV filled our flat, bringing it to life. I sat on my favourite chair in the living room, joined by several familiar faces who--instead of going out--opted for a lazy night in, cozied up with snacks and drinks in front of the TV.  
Currently I attempted to explain my new and peculiar feelings for a _certain boy_ as of late. I had to try as hard as I could to be vague with my descriptions and not name any names. 

"This _guy..._ I swear, It's so strange. Every time he speaks I get butterflies, and when we look at each other I turn red as a tomato. It's awful! I've never felt like this about a guy before..."  
"Oh man, (Y/n), you are SO in denial," Maya snickered with amusement. She sat curled up on the sofa with Mojo in her lap, munching away on some cheap popcorn I picked up after work today. Diana was seated next to her, her favourite green blanket thrown over her lap and eyes glued to the latest novel she picked up.  
"She's right," Diana commented without looking up, eyes still scanning across her book. "You're _obviously_ really into this guy. I say go for it! Make a move!"  
"Are you going to tell him?" Maya asked as she leaned closer to me, her black hair swaying as she bounced around, excitement gleaming in her deep brown eyes. I grimaced at the thought, quickly shaking my head 'no'.  
"Why not?" Jess asked, finally chirping up after several minutes of silently listening in. _She_ was why I had to be _especially_ vague. I was really glad she and I were getting along so well lately, and I didn't want her knowing I had feelings for her brother as I feared it might make things awkward between us.  
"Well," I started, trying to choose my words carefully, "I was hanging out with him recently and... I found out he has a girlfriend. I met her briefly when she got home. She _hates_ me."  
"What makes you say that?" Diana asked, finally closing her book and setting it aside. "Did she outright _say_ she hates you? Or is that you making an assumption?"  
"I mean, I _tried_ to introduce myself, but she just... Ignored me. And she glared at me the whole time, too. But... That might be because she saw us--"  
I suddenly cut myself off, realising I probably revealed too many details. My face quickly began to heat up. The way I cut off the sentence made the whole situation sound way worse than it really was, and Maya--without fail--immediately began to pester me for the details.  
"Because you _what?_ " She pressed. "Did she catch you guys kissing? Touching? What? You have to say it! No, (Y/n), you _have_ to! Pleeease?"  
"Fine!" I shouted, finally giving in with a sigh. "First of all, no, I _didn't_ kiss him, and we _didn't_ do anything! But... We _were_ sitting together on the sofa. He was showing me a photo album and when I went to lean in for a better look, I kind of just... Rested my head on his shoulder. That was it. I think maybe his girlfriend saw us too close and got suspicious, because they got in a fight about... Well, _something_ afterwards. I don't know what it was, but he told me they're apparently going through some stuff. Now I feel really bad..."  
"Ohh... I see. I reckon _that's_ why she was so wary of you. She probably thought you were cuddling. And you didn't know he had a girlfriend?" Maya asked.  
"No. Not at all."  
"So, (Y/n)... What's this guy's name, anyway?" Jess suddenly asked, perking up from where she sat on the floor beside my chair. I had a strange feeling she saw right through me and knew _exactly_ who I was talking about. I was never the best liar. My stomach started to churn as I became nervous, quickly trying to make up a name and story that sounded believable enough to fool them.  
"...Jack. He's... A work friend."  
"Huh? I don't know anyone at Inner Groove named Jack," Maya noted, shoveling the last handful of popcorn in her mouth and smudging her crimson lipstick in the process. "Trust me, I've worked there for 7 months. I know _everyone._ "  
"(Y/n). You and I both know his name isn't Jack," Jess grinned. "You think my own brother doesn't tell me everything? You're talking about Damon and Justine. I _know_ you are!"  
Alarmed at being caught and unable to deny it, I immediately curled in on myself, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my head in my arms as a chorus of "oohs" and "awws" both filled the room _and_ fueled my embarrassment.  
"Wait, Damon and Justine? Woah, that's just like Damon Albarn and Justine Frischmann! That's so cool," Maya laughed, apparently thinking the names were mere coincidences. "That's like Diana here going off and marrying some guy called Charles! A famous couple name!"

There was a pause as Diana, Jess and I exchanged looks of realisation; Maya was the only one here who didn't know Damon personally. Diana and Jess both looked at me expectantly, as if they were waiting for me to initiate the explaination. I instantly refused, holding my hands out in front of me as if to physically stop them.  
"Jess, he's _your_ brother! _You_ tell her," I urged.  
Maya looked amongst us, visibly puzzled by the commotion. All she could manage was a confused _"Huh?"_  
Jess awkwardly cleared her throat, shifting around in her spot as she tried mentally piecing together how exactly she would explain this. "Well, uh... We _are_ talking about them. Damon is my older brother," she explained to Maya, who soaked up the information with an unusual ardour. "We were very close with (Y/n) and her family growing up."  
"No way," Maya scoffed, turning her nose up as she crossed her arms. "Nice try, guys. Sorry, but I'm not THAT gullible!"  
"Maya, she's not lying. Damon really is her brother. I met him myself," Diana calmly added, trying her best to help persuade her into believing it.  
"Prove it then!" Maya exclaimed, suddenly erupting with laughter. She clearly thought it was us trying to mess with her, and she stubbornly refused to believe anything we said. In truth, I could understand why she'd be doubtful of someone she just met making such a claim--hell, I would be doubtful, too. But that's when Jess finally retrieved her purse, digging through its contents and eventually locating her wallet. From it she removed her driver's license, holding it in front of Maya and pointing to the space beside her picture where it read:  
"1. ALBARN  
2\. JESSICA"

Maya squinted at it, looking it over, now seeming conflicted. That could be fake for all she knew--but, then again, why would Jess fake something so trivial? Why would _anyone_ go to such a length as getting a fake license just to lie about their family tree?  
Okay. Maybe she _wasn't_ lying...

Jess fished around her purse a little more until she found what she had initially been looking for: a polaroid. One that she treasured dearly, taken by her mother and kept in her purse at all times. Pictured were the two siblings at a family reunion some 4 years ago; Jess stood beside Damon with her arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug, big grins plastered on both of their faces. I couldn't help but laugh as I looked over at the image.  
Damon had a _terrible_ bowl cut.

Jess tossed the picture into Maya's lap. "There. Is that enough proof for you?"  
Maya held the polaroid in her hand, eyes widening with disbelief. She inspected it carefully, not unlike a forensic scientist at a crime scene, before slowly looking up at me.  
"(Y/n), don't mess with me. I _love_ Blur. Are you _really_ friends with him? Not joking?"  
"Yes, Maya, I'm serious. That's who I went to visit last week after work, remember? When you asked why I was rushing to leave? And I had said I was going to visit my childhood best friend?"  
"Woah..." Maya marveled, slack-jawed as she handed the polaroid back to Jess, who prompty put it back in her purse. Shooting Maya a dodgy glance, not appreciating having been accused of lying, Jess slowly turned back to me with a hint of frustration still present in her voice.  
"Anyway... Damon told me the same thing. About things being rough right now. I don't know what exactly the problem is, though... He wouldn't say. But I _know_ it's got something to do with Justine."  
I nodded to show I understood, my eyes dropping down to stare at the floor. _Justine..._

I highly doubted I had any chance with Damon from the beginning, but regardless of whether I did or not, ever since I learned about Justine, it killed me inside. She was so lucky to have him. He was everything I wanted and more. I almost felt a little jealous thinking of them together, so I forced myself to look at the TV in an attempt to distract my mind.  
"You know, I actually think it's really sweet that you fancy him," Jess said, moving closer and lowering her voice to nearly a whisper. _"Honestly, I don't know what's been going on between him and Justine, but I'm not sure they're going to last much longer. It's unfortunate, but... Still. Don't give up hope on it, (Y/n). We can all tell you make him very happy."_  
"You really think that?"  
_"(Y/n), he talks about you to mum and I all the time. I really, truly think he might fancy you, too, but just hasn't realised it yet."_  
My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. No way someone like him would _ever_ go for someone like me.  
"Just stay with him and give him time," Jess concluded, her voice returning to a normal pitch as she moved back to her original spot, pulling a blanket tight around her shoulders. "I have a feeling he'll figure it out soon."

A small part of me wondered if maybe she was right. I mean, Damon and I still spoke on the phone every night. He would call at the exact same time--on the dot--every day. We also started seeing each other in person more often as Blur lingered around Greater London, random breaks from touring coming every other day.  
We went for drinks the first night; Damon had very subtly tried to disguise himself so he wouldn't be easily recognised, but he ended up getting recognised by his voice anyway. In order to escape before the crowd even got a chance to form, we had to slip out the door quickly and cut the night short. We went back to his house after, agreeing that going out together in public was probably not the best idea unless we _wanted_ to be followed and swarmed.  
The other two times we met up, we knew better and went straight to his house--once for a movie and once to show me his "music room," a small space in his house I had expressed interest in during a previous visit. It was where he kept many of his intruments, along with an abundance of his journals filled page to page with clever song lyrics and ideas. We had a lot of fun going through the notebooks and messing around with the intruments; Damon even ended up trying to teach me how to play one of Blur's songs--"Intermission"--on the piano. He guided my hands gently across the keys until I got it, and he watched with a smile as I played the tune over and over, feeling quite proud of my new ability.  
I myself cracked a smile at the memory.

Though, I also remember seeing Justine there that night. I had been using the restroom when I heard Damon and Justine talking from the kitchen, their voices too muffled for me to decipher the words. I didn't think much of it until I started to head back downstairs and saw Justine quietly heading towards the front door, not saying any sort of hello as she passed me, just seemingly in a hurry to leave. I noticed she looked kind of sickly, bundled up in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, her dark circles still present and chapped lips pressed into a frown. She once again continued to ignore me when I said hello, but I expected as much, so I shrugged it off and returned to the kitchen only to see Damon slumped in a chair by the window, looking tired and sullen as ever. I'm sure the arguing was getting old; It was hard not to notice Damon's consistent frustration and concern around Justine. He himself didn't seem quite right either, and I worried that he was stressed to the point it was taking a heavy toll on his health.

I found myself wondering once more if what Jess said about the pair being on the verge of a break up was true. What if we _did_ by some chance eventually end up together? It seemed like such a crazy idea, but when I took a step back and really thought about it, I realised Jess could be right. Maybe all I needed to do was give him a little more time...


	9. No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter follows Damon. The second half is you.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is a bit heavy, so please proceed with caution. Thank you.

2 JUNE, 1994

"Here's how it's going to go. Either you can agree to get help--and I will take you myself--or you can pack your shit and leave," Damon snapped, gripping the phone so tight his knuckles began turning white.  
He had finally had enough of this. Enough of the fighting. The tears. The anxiety.  
He could tell she was high from the moment she first picked up the phone, so he moved to an empty dressing room to take the call in private.   
"Pardon me? Did... Did you just tell me to _leave?_ " She asked, sounding half conscious. He could mentally envision her sitting there, alone in the living room, phone in hand as she nodded out, swaying side to side and struggling to stay in control of her own body. He hated seeing her like that.  
"Yes. Leave. I try _so hard_ to help you but all you ever do is push me away. I'm sorry, but I can't sit back and watch you slowly kill yourself anymore."  
"I can't _believe_ you..." She spat. "Mr. _Perfect!_ God... You act like you haven't done it, too... You're just as guilty as I am!"  
"But I _quit._ I quit because I knew I was only digging my own grave. Listen to me, Justine; _Heroin isn't worth it._ I worry about you every day, and despite what you may think, I do and say all of this because I _care._ I care _so_ much. I just know that one of these days I'm going to come home and find you dead on the floor, and I just... I couldn't live with something like that on my conscience."  
"Fuck you," Justine slurred, frustration finally giving way to hot, utterly hysterical tears. Damon flinched as she barked at him over the phone, her voice loud, hoarse, and filled with anger. " _Fuck you!_ I'm fine, okay? You... You don't understand... You don't get it at _all!_ " she hollered, desperately attempting to defend herself. 

But he _did_ understand. He understood far too well.   
She had turned him on to heroin _ages_ ago. He didn't _want_ to do it, but one day when he came home, it was there, ready and waiting on the table.  
She told him she didn't want to do it alone.   
He was foolish enough to do it with her. 

He knew what addiction felt like. He knew what withdrawal felt like. He had long since familiarized himself with the tortures of drug abuse and he was one of the lucky ones who made it out alive. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if Justine would share in that luck.   
Heroin had dragged him to the pits of hell and back.

"Either this ends _now_ , or it's over," Damon said softly, his voice nearly breaking. "I mean it."

He was met with a deafening silence, interrupted every now and then by Justine sniffling. Each second that passed felt like an eternity, and Damon couldn't handle the uncertainty that came over him. He leaned back against the solid grey wall, phone still held to his ear as he gazed down at the floor, lost in thought. If she wasn't willing to try and break this addiction, then he had no choice but to leave. He tried so many times before to convince her to see a doctor, but she was too damn stubborn. Justine does what Justine wants--no ifs, ands, or buts about it.  
This was his last attempt. He needed an answer, and he needed one _now._

Soon enough, that answer finally came between choked sobs as Justine broke the silence.

_"I'll be out before you get home on Monday."_

Damon didn't know what to say. Part of him didn't expect this. He had thought--hoped--that by threatening to leave, it would scare her into giving in and finally accepting the help. Instead, she chose heroin over him, and he felt... Betrayed. Rightfully so.

He hung up the phone without a word, staring at it blankly as he tried to process this sudden new reality he found himself faced with. For the first time since they got together _3 years ago,_ he was alone.   
It was only a matter of time before word reached the public. He didn't know what to do. With a heavy sigh, he slowly started back towards the band's dressing room in silence.

They had just finished playing a show at the Civic Centre in Aylesbury some half hour ago. The group was preparing to go Spain in 4 days, followed by Italy and France before returning to the UK. Tonight they chose to lounge in the dressing room afterwards and drink, wanting to unwind a little before heading to the hotel. Damon quietly slipped back into the room, actively avoiding eye contact with the others and heading straight towards the back. Alex--who had been busy supervising a _very_ drunk Graham while he was gone--eyed him curiously as he came in, shooting a look over at Dave and nodding his head towards Damon as if to say _"Look."_  
Dave followed Alex's gaze, watching Damon as he lit a cigarette and stared down at his shoes, eyes vacant and expression unchanging. He looked out of it.  
"Damon? You alright?" Dave asked. "Did you talk to Justine?"  
"Yeah."  
"Is _she_ alright?" Alex then asked, swatting Graham's hand away as the inebriated man tried to reach for his hair. They all knew by now about Justine's drug use, and they especially knew how concerned Damon was for her. "Did something happen?"  
"...It's over," Damon admitted, unable to hide his feelings of defeat. "I tried. I really did. She just... Won't get help."  
Alex and Dave exchanged looks and watched Damon sympathetically. 

He started to feel the unwanted urge to cry creeping up on him. He _hated_ crying--especially around others, fearing people would mock him and accuse him of being weak. But when you give 3 years of your life to someone and then subsequently fall apart, how could you _not_ be upset?  
The others pitied Damon, but couldn't say they were surprised; they saw this coming for a while now.   
"Maybe this is for the better. I mean, you clearly weren't happy with her. We could all see it. The amount of stress she's caused you in the past week _alone_ has drained the life out of you."  
"Believe me, I know..." Damon sighed. He was so tired.   
"I honestly think it's about time you two parted. You can find someone better and you _know_ you can. Who knows, maybe If you... Shit, _Shit--_ "   
Alex was cut off as Graham suddenly began retching, having drank far too many beers that night. He quickly snatched up the trash bin from beside the sofa, thrusting it towards Graham and groaning in disgust as he gripped it tightly to his chest, head sinking into the basket while his stomach forcibly emptied. Damon cringed and turned away from the scene, muttering something about it being disgusting whilst Dave volunteered to go get some water for poor, nauseated Graham. 

Amongst the commotion, Damon glanced over at the clock that hung on the wall, noting it now read midnight.   
"Shit," he realised, "I was supposed to call (Y/n) 20 minutes ago..." He had gotten so tied up in talking to Justine that he completely forgot to keep track of time.  
"Do you _have_ to call her every night?" Alex asked, his arm gently wrapped around Graham in an attempt to hold him upright.  
Damon didn't answer at first. He surprisingly hadn't realised he called her every day until Alex pointed it out. "I, Well... No... I just like talking to her. She _is_ my friend after all."  
"Are you _sure_ she's just a friend? You never seem to stop talking about her... Graham, _stop it!_ " Alex exclaimed, slapping Graham's hand away from his face once more. The drunken man whined and sank further down into the sofa, rubbing at his eyes and knocking his glasses off of in the process.   
Dave finally returned with a bottle of water and tossed it to Graham, who opened it with the eagnerness of a child on Christmas morning.  
"We're just friends. At least... I think so." Damon said. He was beginning to doubt himself a little...   
He wasn't really sure. 

His heart rate quickened as he thought about her. About how she made him feel.  
How _did_ she make him feel? She made him feel wanted.  
Appreciated.   
Understood.   
Safe.   
Loved.   
_Confused._  
A strange warmth spread throughout his chest, making him somewhat uneasy as butterflies began swarming in his stomach. "I don't know," he finally concluded. "It's... Complicated."  
"You seem pretty infatuated with her if you ask me," Alex observed, noticing how Damon had completely spaced out for a second there, the tiniest hint of pink rising in his cheeks. He wasn't really one to blush.   
"Infatuated with who?" Dave asked, plopping back down in his spot on the sofa.  
"(Y/n). Damon apparently isn't sure if he likes her or not."  
"Oh, I reckon he does. I mean, he calls her every night for 3 weeks straight, invites her to his house, talks about her _constantly--_ "  
"Alright, thank you, Dave, that's enough," Damon said, stopping the tirade in order to spare himself the embarrassment.   
" _Ahh..._ You--You're just bitter 'cause he called you out," Graham slurred, a silly grin plastered on his flushed face. This was the first Graham had spoken since Damon returned to the room.   
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Damon mumbled in response, leaning back against the vanity while attempting to hide his face with his jacket. His mind was racing and he was starting to get a bit flustered.   
"Oh, just admit it. You know you've got feelings for her," Alex pressed, earning an irritated glare from Damon. "I know it, you know it. We all know it."  
"I said I don't know, alright? I... I can't tell yet."  
"Well, go make your phone call and figure it out, then."

-

An hour and a half away in _nearly_ central London, I was home and laying on my bed, eyes occasionally looking up from my notebook towards the small digital clock that sat on the bedside table. The neon green numbers currently read well past midnight.

Damon didn't call like he usually did. He would've normally called about 35 minutes ago, and the fact that he didn't kind of worried me, though I'm sure it was probably nothing. I stood beside the phone for _ages_ waiting for a call that never came, sincerely hoping I'd be able to hear from him tonight. 

When I finally gave up on waiting and tried to go to bed, I found that the thought nagged incessantly at the back of my mind, so I forced myself to stay up in hopes that the phone would eventually ring. In the meantime, I sketched mindlessly in my notebook, doodling all sorts of bizzare faces, creatures, and sceneries while I waited. It was a lazy attempt at keeping myself awake, and I was only moderately focused as I shaded in the delicate, wilting petals of a rose I drew towards the bottom of the page. 

Then I heard it; the muffled sound of a ringing telephone coming from the living room. My heart jumped at the noise. I immediately shot out of bed, swinging my door wide open and rushing down the hall to answer it. Diana--summomed from her own room by the sound of my racing footsteps--emerged half-dressed and glaring with annoyance. "Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?" She grumbled, trudging into the living room sleepily behind me. As I picked up the phone, she threw herself down on the sofa, head buried in the pillows. I watched from across the room as she gradually started dozing off again. 

"Hello?"  
"Hey. Did I wake you?"  
I felt _so_ relieved to hear Damon's voice. I couldn't help but break out into a smile.   
"No, I've been up. I was getting worried you wouldn't call," I said, laughing a little.   
"I'm sorry it's so late. I got kind of... Mixed up in some things. Forgot to keep track of the time."  
"No need to apologise, I'm sure you've been busy with the tour. How was Aylesbury?"  
"Good, aside from Graham getting _embarrassingly_ drunk. I'm surprised he didn't fall over mid-show seeing how he could barely hold himself upright."  
"That bad, huh?"  
"He threw up in the trash bin in the dressing room. _Twice_."  
"Ugh, that's _horrible_ ," I said as I grimaced and laughed. "Poor Graham... He needs to calm down with all the beer. But anyway, how have you been? Anything new?"  
"Yes, actually--that's part of the reason I wanted to call. Could we, um... Could we talk about something serious for a second?"  
"Of course," I replied, a pang of anxiety instantly hitting me like a sharp punch in the stomach. From past experiences, most conversations that start with _"Can we talk?"_ tend to end in bad news. "Is everything okay?" I asked.   
"I... Broke up with Justine."

Upon hearing this, I was struck with several feelings at once.   
First came surprise. They had been together for three years and lived in the same house. What was going to happen to their home? Who would have to move? Where would they go?  
Next came confusion. Damon was so patient--what exactly made him draw the line? Sure, he could sometimes lose his temper, but it took a lot to _really_ get him upset.  
Finally came happiness, but not without a sinister twinge of guilt. It was incredibly selfish of me to feel happy over something that brought him pain. I knew he must have been heartbroken and upset, maybe even angry, and this was most certainly not the time to celebrate. 

"Oh, Damon, I'm so sorry... Are you okay? What happened?"  
"I'm alright, thank you. It's a long story, and I'm not sure you'd want to hear it, anyway. It's not very pleasant."  
"You know you can tell me anything," I reassured him. "What's been going on? I'm here to listen."  
"I'm... Not exactly sure how to start this," he admitted. "You're _definitely_ going to judge me for what I'm about to tell you."  
"I _promise_ I won't, Dee. You can trust me."  
He took a deep breath, letting the words settle in. "Alright, just... Don't say I didn't warn you. It goes back a while--about a year and a half ago or so, maybe longer. We had just moved into our first flat together. I remember one day when I was coming home, I saw Justine sat on the sofa and huddling over the table. She... She had something. I gave her this odd look from across the room, and once I saw what she had, I _knew_ I was in for trouble."  
"And what did she have?"   
"...Needles. Two of them. One for her, one for me."

"...What was in the needle?" I asked, concern evident in my voice. 

Damon didn't answer at first. He didn't really want to continue.   
"...She had heroin. Said she wanted to try it but didn't want to do it alone, so because I couldn't talk her out of it, I... I did it with her. What a _stupid_ fucking idea that was..."

I could feel my heart break at the words. I tried my best to hide it since I promised I wouldn't judge and didn't want to say anything to accidentally upset him. "And then what?" I asked, pushing him to continue.   
"Well... I was hooked on it. I became the addict I promised myself I'd _never_ become. It was awful... Luckily I realised what I was doing to myself and eventually sought out recovery. I'm 7 months clean, but... Justine is unfortunately a different case. I tried _so hard_ to get her to quit, but she wouldn't even consider it. Just refuses left and right, cursing me out and telling me I don't understand. I couldn't handle watching her waste away like that anymore, so I told her. I told her she could either agree to get help or leave, and she left. Promised me she'd be out come Monday."

I stood at the other end of the phone slack-jawed. "I'm so, _so_ sorry you had to go through all that, Dee. That's terrible... To think she couldn't even make the effort..."  
"And that's not all," he began, his heart starting to pound against his ribcage. "This is what I _really_ wanted to talk about. Alex pointed something out to me today that really got me thinking. I'm sorry if this comes off as being too forward, but... I'm so glad we've reconnected. You're a lovely, smart, beautiful girl and you mean a lot to me. What I'm trying to say is that I really like you, (Y/n), and... I think I like you more than a friend. If you're willing, I'd really like to try and make something work between us, but I _completely_ understand if you don't feel the same and want me to leave you alone. I'm sorry to spring this on you in the middle of the night, but... I just felt it was something that had to be said. Now seemed like the right time to say it."

My hands began to tremble as I held the phone to my ear, thinking I surely _must_ have been hallucinating. My breath was caught in my throat and I quickly found myself at a complete loss for words. Never would I have ever imagined that _Damon_ would be the one to confess.  
"Do you really mean that?" I managed, my voice gentle. "Because... I really like you, too. As more than a friend. And... And I'd love to try and make this work."  
The bright, bashful grin that lit up Damon's face said all that anyone needed to know. For the first time in months, he could finally say he felt genuinely happy about something. "Perfect. I'll be back in London on Monday and I really want to see you. Are you busy then?"  
"Never too busy for you."  
"How sweet," he said with a chuckle, feeling himself turn a little red at the comment. I could practically hear him smiling through the phone. "How about we try going out for drinks again?"  
"Sounds perfect."

After confirming the details surrounding our plans and saying our goodbyes, I hung up the phone in a daze. Was I dreaming? Apparently not. I had to tell someone!   
I glimpsed over at Diana--who still lay fast asleep on the couch--and crept my way over to her, grabbing her by the arm and shaking. "Diana! You have to wake up!" I cried, shaking her harder. "Dianaaa! This is _important!"_  
She let out a long groan, sitting up and letting her unkempt mop of blonde hair fall in her eyes. "What? What is it?" She asked, thoroughly irritated and yawning.  
"I just got off the phone with Damon."  
"As you usually do..." She mumbled, cutting me off. She turned to lay on her side with her head propped up on her hand. 

"He broke up with Justine. Says he likes me."

This caught her attention _immediately._  
"What?!" She exclaimed, instantly springing to her feet. "(Y/n), are you serious?! Did he really?! What did you say?"  
"Well... I think I have a boyfriend."

Cue the screams of excitement. 

Diana lunged at me and took my hands, the two of us starting to dance around the room giddily, bouncing off the walls and trying _so hard_ not to make too much noise. Diana's excitement only made me _more_ excited; my heart felt so full and I just couldn't wait to see Damon on Monday. 

Everything I had imagined was slowly coming true, and I was _so_ excited for what the future would now hold.   
The puzzle pieces were starting to fit and life was _finally_ coming together.


	10. Primrose Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm sorry for another hiatus! I tend to crank out 2 or 3 chapters in a couple days, post them, and then take a week long break to recollect. Thank you for being patient! Enjoy!

6 JUNE, 1994

Monday.  
I got called in to work unexpectedly this morning on account of my coworker Jay calling in sick. Not surprising--he had been in with a fairly obvious cold just a few days earlier, one which forced him to go home early. He needed someone to cover for him today, and since I knew I wasn't going to be seeing Damon until later in the evening, I agreed to take his afternoon shift. I was glad to, especially since I knew Maya would be working. She _always_ worked on Mondays. 

I called Damon to let him know I had work before I left; Diana had taken the car for the day to do some shopping, so I was left to take the tube and walk to work. Despite it being crowded as ever, it was actually a nice change for once--seeing the people whipping past, wandering through the streets, taking in the sounds of the city. I _really_ don't get out enough. It was especially nice since the weather was perfect today, warm and slightly breezy with not a single cloud in sight. If only it could be like that all the time. 

Business was a bit slower than usual today. Behind the main counter sat Allison Davis; an eccentric, introverted girl who I had only worked with twice before. She wore her clothes several sizes too large and had a knit cap pulled slightly over her eyes while she sketched on a small notepad, her impressively long hair tossed over her shoulders to keep it out of the way. Occasionaly she would glimpse up and let her eyes briefly scan the room before returning to her art. She was more so keeping watch from the back of the store than she was being a cashier.  
Maya was nearby, busy sorting through and organising the cassettes with our newest coworker, Dominic Lockwood--or Dom, as he liked to be called. Dom was not only new to Inner Groove, but new to London; he just recently moved from Liverpool, and today was my first day working with him. He was sweet and _unbelievably_ friendly, with the most striking hazel eyes, but his scouse accent was _very_ strong, and sometimes I found him difficult to understand. He used a _lot_ of slang that I had never heard before. 

While the others did their thing, I amused myself plenty by flipping through the new releases bin and unloading the boxes filled with miscellaneous band t-shirts that came in this morning.

The four of us were the only ones in today, and we spent much of our time chatting and lounging around, getting a grand total of _maybe_ 20 customers by time my 5 hour shift was over. There were several other bigger record stores nearby that tended to get more of a turnout than us. Oh well--the less people I have to deal with, the better. 

I looked down at my wrist watch to see the time was currently 4:56 PM.  
Just a few more minutes and then I would be off the clock, finally able to head home to wait for Damon.  
Maya noticed my excitement as I looked at my watch. Curious, she slid over to where I stood, pushing her hair behind her ear as she leaned back against one of the vinyl bins. "Someone looks happy," she noted with a smirk, her gold septum ring shining under the store lights. "Got plans?"  
"Yeah--I'm going to this new pub near Regent's Park," I said, folding the last shirt and setting it neatly on the shelf. "I'm actually not really much of a drinker, but... It's nice every now and then."  
"Going with Diana?"  
"No, actually. It's... It's a date."  
"Cool, that's--wait, a _date?!_ " Maya exclaimed, eyes widening. "Y-You've got a date?! But... _I thought you liked Damon?"_ She asked, lowering her voice as she realised she had been shouting. Dom shot her a startled look, clearly not anticipating the outburst, and she sheepishly mouthed an apology.  
"I do," I stated rather matter-of-factly. His breakup with Justine hadn't been publically announced yet, so Maya had _no idea._ She simply stared at me in confusion, looking expectant, as if waiting for a further explanation. But I had said all I needed to, so I shrugged in response, picking up the now empty cardboard box that I pulled the shirts out of and carrying it up to the counter. Maya trailed after me, clearly not satisfied with my silence, and Allison eyed us cautiously as we approached, remaining quiet as she usually was. She always preferred to listen in rather than talk, like a fly on the wall. 

Before Maya could even get another word in--inevitably to pester me for details--the familiar chime of bells signaled that someone was coming in the front door. The shop was closing early today, and Maya was just about to tell the new customer exactly that, but her breath caught in her throat the instant she spun around. Allison, looking up, had immediately stopped drawing. I heard Dom mutter from behind me, "No way..."  
Confused, I turned to see what had caught their attention.

Damon had slipped in and hurriedly shut the door behind him, a diffident smile on his face as he was met with me and 3 unfamiliar, bewildered faces staring back at him.  
My heart immediately soared the second I realised it was him. I couldn't control the heat that began to rise in my cheeks, and I tried to subtly bite my lip to contain a broad smile; This was the first time I was seeing him not as a friend, but rather as a date.  
"Sorry for showing up unannounced--I know you're about to close," he apologised. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, Damon gazed around the store as he slowly walked towards the counter, where the four of us were standing.  
"Hey! What are you doing here?" I asked, walking briskly to greet him with a hug. He pulled me in close, arms wrapped securely around my body, and rested his chin on the top on my head. The others watched our interaction with amazement.  
"I came to get you. You said Diana had the car for the day, right?"  
"Yeah, so?"  
" _So,_ why take the tube and walk home when I could just come and get you from work myself? I would've been picking you up anyway," he reasoned.  
"You're too sweet, Dee."  
I realised I should _probably_ introduce him to my coworkers so that way they weren't just standing around gawking at him. Clearing my throat, I gestured towards them.  
"These are my coworkers. Allison, Dominic, and Maya," I said, pointing to each person as I gave their names. "Everyone, this is Damon. I'm guessing you've figured that out by now."

Maya was frozen in place, all of her confidence _immediately_ draining. Never had I ever seen her this quiet. She had told me several times before about how much she really admired Damon, about how he was her musical inspiration, so I understood why she was nervous. Hell, I would be, too. It's not every day that a pop star comes into your workplace.

Damon smiled politely as he said hello to them, only to single out Maya in particular. "(Y/n)'s told me a lot about you," he told her, making her cheeks turn red. Her mouth moved as she _tried_ to speak, searching for any kind of answer, but nothing came out at first. Once she finally found her voice, she began to ramble.  
"It's... It's such an honour to meet you," she gushed. "You're just... _Incredible!_ Oh my God, is this really happening? Sorry, I know I'm freaking out--Jesus, I just... I can't believe you're here... I-I really admire your work!"  
"Well, thank you," Damon chuckled, watching in amusement as Maya stuttered and rambled in an excited daze. He was accustomed to things like this by now, so it didn't phase him much. He let her have her moment. 

I looked down once again at my watch, which now read 5:03 PM. I was _finally_ done my shift and the store was now officially closed.  
"Hey, we should probably get going," I said, nudging Damon's arm to get his attention. "You know how traffic is. I reckon it'll take about 20 minutes to drive there."  
"...Wait," Maya started, stepping forward and grabbing my arm gently. She lowered her voice to a whisper, which wasn't exactly necessary since the others could still hear. " _I thought you said you have a date?_ "  
"I do."  
"I don't understand. So, then... Where are you lot going?"  
"On a date," I bluntly answered. Maya's expression warped into one that I could only describe as a mix between confusion, scepticism, and disbelief. She looked to Damon as if waiting for him to confirm it, and he did, with a simple nod.  
"I thought you... I thought you were dating Justine Frischmann?"  
"...Not anymore," he managed. "She's, well... Let's just say we're no longer compatible."  
Maya was taken aback to the point of silence. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  
"We _really_ should get going," I began, not wanting to delve into the topic too much. The wound was still fresh, and I didn't want Damon to be upset. "This hasn't exactly been revealed to the public yet, so... If you guys could _please_ not say anything, we'd really appreciate it."  
"Of course," Maya answered, putting a hand over her heart. "Won't tell a soul."

After saying our goodbyes and collecting my belongings from the break room, Damon and I finally headed out, ready for the night ahead. 

-

It was a 20 minute ride, just as I had predicted--it probably would've been a hell of a lot quicker if we had just walked, but that, of course, was not an option.

The pub we had chosen to go to was--as previously mentioned--a newer one. Located just north of Regent's Park, it had apparently opened early last month, and Damon spoke very highly of it. I could see why just upon entering; it was a medium-sized building, the outside a solid jet black and lined with different types of potted flowers and foliage. Metallic gold letters plastered just above the doorway read "The Triton," and old-fashioned lanterns adorned the walls beside it. 

Inside, it was rather full and the place was bustling with life. We managed to snag a small table for two in the back corner under some dim lights, which was perfect. The last time Damon and I had tried to go for drinks, he was recognised rather quickly, forcing us to leave before anyone got the chance to bother us. This corner spot was exactly what we needed. He sat in the chair opposite from me, his back to the crowd so I was the only one who could see his face. As we got settled in and tried to figure out what we wanted to get, I gazed around some more at the impressive décor; the walls were wood from floor to ceiling, with all kinds of trinkets, posters, and paintings hanging on display. The sound of chatter and laughter filled the space, nearly drowning out the music that was playing, creating a fun, relaxing atmosphere that I thoroughly enjoyed. I never really went to pubs that often, so being in one was actually kind of exciting. Since Damon still had to drive, he settled for a beer, while I opted for cider.

We were having a wonderful time together, drinking and sharing all kinds of stories. I couldn't help but stare at him nearly the entire time with a dumb grin on my face. I silently wondered how I got this lucky.  
To say he was beautiful was an understatement.  
The warm light from the single bulb suspended above the table lit up his face, making him almost look like a painting; a perfectly sharp nose, a charming smile, slightly messy hair and blue eyes that I'm sure I'd remember for the rest of my life. His voice was distinct, captivating, and his demeanor confident and relaxed. I admired everything about him. Never before had I found myself drawn to any man like I was to Damon. It was... Bizzare. A _good_ kind of bizzare. 

He caught on to my absent minded staring while he was mid-story, stopping abruptly in the middle of a sentence to shake his head laugh.  
"What's so funny?" I asked, my eyes still half-lidded and fixed on him.  
"You," he grinned, sitting back in his seat. "You're staring."  
"W-Well, you were talking, and I was listening," I said in defense, sitting upright.  
"Yeah? Then what did I say?"  
Touché. My shoulders immediately tensed as my eyes averted to the table, staring down at my drink as I tried to remember. I had been so distracted that I wasn't listening too closely. "Um... Something about touring?"  
"No," he laughed again, "Nice try. You asked how I got into music, remember?"  
"R-Right! Sorry," I quickly apologised, turning a little pink from embarrassment. "What were you saying?"  
"I said Colchester and Leytonstone may as well be on different continents. When we moved it was such a different culture I felt like an outsider. So, that's when I found music."  
I nodded, this time giving him my full, undivided attention as he explained.

All was going well until a rather noisy group sat down at the table beside us; the group consisted of 4 girls, all around their early 20s. They had been glancing our way every few minutes, and I noticed Damon beginning to act a little restive, continuously fidgeting and shifting around in his seat as if he couldn't get comfortable. He kept glancing over and catching them looking, making him turn his body so he was facing the wall, one arm propped up on the table and head resting in his hand, acting like a shield to hide his face. I reached across the table to rest my hand atop of his free one.  
"Hey. You feeling alright?"  
"Yeah, it's just..." He sat up, shooting them one more look before leaning in close, still trying to face the wall. "Those girls over there. Table next to us. They keep _staring--"_  
"Damon!" One of them called out, making him freeze up. He muttered a few swears under his breath, giving them a small--almost dismissive--wave. They continued to call for him, and people were beginning to turn their heads as the obnoxious table kept attempting to talk to us, drawing more and more unwanted attention to the table. The people within the pub began to murmur, and I could tell Damon was getting irritated.  
"Damn it... How did I know this was going to happen?" He said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."  
"Don't apologise, it's not your fault! We can leave if you'd like," I offered with a comforting smile. "It's really no problem with me. Sun's not completely down yet, so maybe we could head to Regent's Park for a little."

He agreed to the proposal, seeming very relieved to get out of there. We left as fast as we could, retreating to the safety of the car and making the short journey over to the park. 

I hadn't been to this park in _ages._ We walked our way up to Primrose Hill, as it was closest, and we found a nice secluded spot to sit, overlooking the city. The sky was shifting from blue to a deep indigo, and the lights coming from the cityscape made up for the lack of stars. There was a gentle breeze passing by, and since it was starting to get dark, only a few other people were there. It was perfect, exactly the change we needed from the rowdiness of a pub. Damon finally began to relax now that he was out, his tension slowly melting away as I coaxed him into telling me more about the tour. He needed the distraction.  
"We're leaving for Spain tomorrow morning," he told me as he stared out at the sky, laying in the grass on his back. "From there we're headed to France, then Italy. After that, we'll be back here for a little while."  
"...I'll miss you."  
He almost seemed surprised by that. Flattered, even. He smiled, eyes softening as he turned his head to look at me. "I'll miss you too."  
"You better remember to call," I said, hitting him playfully on the arm. "I don't think I could go more than a day without talking to you."

I waited for him to say something, but he didn't respond. Instead, he kept looking at me, holding direct eye contact that was making my heart race faster by the second. He seemed to be lost in thought, almost as if considering something, focus etched into his features.  
I could only imagine what was going on inside that head of his. 

"Come with me," he finally said.  
"...Huh?"  
" _Come with me,_ " he repeated firmly. "To Spain. To France. To Italy. I... I want you to. I want you there."

I was stunned. I didn't know how to react.  
"S-Seriously?" I asked, my voice stuttering and just above a whisper.  
"I know it's last minute, but I'd really love it if you did come. I reckon it'd be a lot of fun. And as much as I love my bandmates, I'd rather _not_ be trapped with them the whole time."  
"I... I'd love that, Dee. Thank you. I'd just need to call in to work and let someone know I'll be out..."

"Then we better get you home soon," he said, stretching as he sat up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You've got until 7 tomorrow morning to pack. I'll pick you up around then."


	11. Madrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep a semi-consistent upload schedule, but school has been kicking my ass lately, so please excuse me if I take a while to update. 
> 
> Thanks!

7 JUNE, 1994

Planes. The most revolutionary form of international travel to be created in the last 100 years. Without them, we'd still be heavily reliant on ships to make our overseas travels, risking our lives for the sake of seeing the world. Thousands of people fly every day with relative ease, but I personally have never really been keen on flying. Of course I've been on planes before--how else would I have moved to America and back? I fly out of necessity, but _never_ for trips. I never had any reason to, and planes give me an unshakable sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. One that brings extreme nausea and what borders on paralyzing fear. Realistically I knew the likelihood of something going wrong was extremely small, but I still feared--and expected--the worst. It was just part of my paranoia.

Luckily, we weren't flying across the Atlantic. The flight from London to Madrid was roughly 2 and a half hours, which was perfectly bearable for me. My travel experience was severely limited; I had only ever been to the US and the UK--growing up, we couldn't afford elaborate holidays to foreign countries. I would beg and plead with my parents to go to Paris or Stockholm or perhaps even Rome, but my requests always fell on deaf ears. If it wasn't 3 day trips Brighton, we occasionally found ourselves in Manchester. Nothing more and nothing less. 

I rushed all last night and early this morning to pack everything I thought I might need for the next 4 days, trying to be mindful so I didn't overpack. I brought only the things I deemed necessary, like several outfits, shoes, toiletries, and my notebook, just in case I grew bored and needed something to do.  
The flight itself went smoothly, and during it I found myself sat between Damon and Graham. I felt a little bad for jumping in on their trip so last minute, thinking maybe they would be irritated by it, but it was quite the opposite. Damon started nodding off about an hour into the flight; He fought against it, his head drooping down little by little before he would jolt upright, barely able to stay awake. I eventually convinced him to give in and rest, so while he slept half-leaning against my shoulder, I made conversation with Graham. 

Since we first met I very much liked Graham. He was incredibly sweet, such a loveable kind of person. He was easy to talk to and we got on really well. He was hard to dislike, and the same can be said for any of the boys for that matter; whenever I came around they always made an effort to talk to and include me so I didn't feel left out or like a bother. Dave was even sweet enough to give up his original seat for me so I could sit with Damon. Small acts of kindness, but they certainly didn't go unappreciated. 

We arrived at the Madrid–Barajas airport just on time. I was in awe at the size of the place, as well as its unique design. It looked _nothing_ like Heathrow. The wooden ceilings were high and built in a strange wave-type pattern, massive yellow supporting beams extending from the floor to the roof at a rather bizzare angle. Huge rounded skylights allowed for natural sunlight to enter, brightening the building up effortlessly. People stood in long queues behind mazes of red ropes, the lines extending far around the room. Frantic families scurried around and crowds took up most of the floor space, making it significantly more difficult to move about.   
We were there for quite a while before we could leave. When we did, we left straight for the hotel. We would only be here for a night and were expected to leave for Paris tomorrow morning. 

I wanted to enjoy every second in Spain that I had. 

The hotel we were booked at was a beautiful, large corner building that towered over the streets of Madrid. Our rooms were decently high up and all next to each other in the same hallway. Each room had 2 beds, so Alex and Dave shared one room while Damon and Graham planned to share the other. Because there were only 2 rooms with 2 beds each, I would have to either sleep on the floor in the same bed with Damon. When faced with this predicament, Damon insisted that we share the bed. For some reason unknown to me, the thought made my anxiety spike. I decided not to fight him on it and accepted, as he claimed he would sooner sleep on the floor himself than let me do it.   
He had quite a chivalrous way about him sometimes. I found great amusement in it. 

After everyone was situated in their rooms, necessary belongings unpacked and neatly set aside for later use, we set out to exploring. We had 5 hours before we had to head to Sala Pacha for sound check. 

Damon and I immediately took off for "Spanish Broadway," the focus of all of Madrid's hustle and bustle, Gran Vía. Located within central Madrid, this massive street was full of theatres, bars, shops, cinemas, and restaurants of all kinds. We had no set plan as to what we wanted to do or what places we wanted to see, so we let our feet carry us, popping in and out of stores that looked appealing and trying to get around without knowing more than the most basic Spanish.   
The buildings on the street were simply magnificent; it's no wonder that tourists flock here to admire the 20th century style of this iconic neighbourhood. Both high fashion and street fashion stores can be found on Gran Vía, and that's what the two of us were most interested in seeing. We picked a promising looking store and wandered in, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the amount of merchandise--as well as people. Crowds leisurely strolled around tables and racks, examining the clothes and chatting eagerly with friends and family, rushing back and forth across the store. It was nothing short of hectic, like a Black Friday back in America. 

My heart jumped in my throat when I felt something softly touch my hand. I looked down to see Damon lightly brushing his fingers against my hand, like he _wanted_ to grab it but was uncertain if he should. I quickly glanced at him to see if he was looking, but he was staring straight ahead, trying to keep his eye on the crowd and avoid bumping into anyone. When an older woman trying to get by cut directly in between us, forcing us apart for a brief moment, that was when he finally rejoined my side and reached out for my hand, lacing our fingers together and holding tight. I couldn't help the smile that came to my face as my heart started pounding.

Being in Spain allowed for us to go in public with a significantly smaller chance of being recognised. This was an incredible blessing, as we managed to see a lot without being bothered and got to do things that we otherwise couldn't do if we were in London. But, of course, not all good things last forever. Our luck ran dry towards the end of our little shopping journey, after Damon insisted I wait for him by a jacket display, one in a slightly secluded corner where there were less people around. He went to pay for something, though I had no idea what it was. When I saw him approaching with a small bag in hand and a smug grin, I cocked my eyebrow in suspicion.   
"What did you get?" I must have asked for the hundredth time. "I never even saw you pick anything up!"  
"Exactly," he said, reaching into the bag. "Close your eyes."  
"What?"  
"Close them. Go on!"  
I reluctantly did as told, closing my eyes and laughing nervously as he asked me to put out my hand. I felt him gently place something in my open palm, something that felt like a box. I waited for the cue to open my eyes, and when I did, I saw a delicate cream coloured box sitting in my hands. Damon urged me to open it.

Inside was a beautiful necklace--a solid chain of silver that resembled a rosary, except rather than a cross, there was dainty butterfly charm dangling from the bottom. Small stones of garnet laced through the chain, equally spaced apart, the deep red a beautiful contrast against the shiny silver. I recognised the necklace as one we had briefly looked at earlier--one that I fell in love with--and I gasped.   
"Damon... Y-You didn't have to get me this! This necklace was _expensive!_ "  
"Of course I didn't _have_ to. I _wanted_ to. The price isn't important."  
"But--"  
"No 'but's. If I couldn't afford it, I wouldn't have bought it."  
I threw myself towards him, arms wrapping around him in a hug as he embraced me with equal enthusiasm.  
"Thank you," I said, quickly planting a kiss on his cheek which made him smile. "You really are too sweet to me."  
We stayed still for a moment, savouring the intimacy of the embrace when I noticed his arm slowly began to slide down my back, stopping at my waist. Then I noticed his head tilting gently to the side. I had no idea what he was doing until I felt him softly press his lips to my neck, the feeling making me squirm and unintentionally lean my head back as he pressed the most delicate kiss to my sensitive skin. I could feel myself turn red, sparks shooting throughout my body and my mind becoming hazy. I began to melt into it, my body relaxing and leaning closer to him without even meaning to. 

He had never touched or kissed me like that before.   
It was exhilarating.

He pulled away from me when he felt someone tapping rapidly on his shoulder, spinning around to see a young man--somewhere around his age--bubbling with excitement and rambling in a mix of Spanish and English.   
Damon shot me an apologetic look as he began to make simple conversation with the stranger, who introduced himself as Luis. He spoke of the Madrid show tonight, explaining that he was attending and how excited he was to have run into Damon here. Luis was soon joined by a friend of his, and then another, and another, and it became very clear to Damon and I both that we would have to leave soon. This store was crowded enough as it was, and we didn't want to cause chaos if word spread that a celebrity was here. Damon politely excused himself from the group of friends, taking hold of my arm and hurriedly stating, _"I think we should leave."_  
I nodded in agreement, and we began to make our way to the exit as quick as we could. These sudden exits were something I definitely had to get used to. This time, we were finished looking around and would have been leaving anyway. I kept the box that housed my new necklace in my hand, clutching it closely to my chest as I maneuvered around the store, careful not to trip or bump into anyone and drop it. 

Finally the door was in sight and we were _almost_ out. That is, until the telltale sound of someone calling out for Damon sent numerous heads turning in our direction. He quickly made way straight for the exit, tucking his head down to hide his face as he pushed the glass door open with his shoulder, stumbling into the street and tugging me along with him. We quckly took off back in the direction we originally came from, walking just far enough to feel safe to turn onto a less busy street and take a quick break. Once we found a suitable spot to rest, Damon leaned back against the stone wall of a large, white building, retrieving cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket. He let it dangle between his lips as he lit it, shielding the flame with his hands and mindlessly puffing on it every few seconds.

Now that I had a moment to spare, I removed the necklace from it's box and went to put it on, hooking it as loose as it could possibly go. I glimpsed down at my chest, catching sight of the silver and garnets sparkling in the remnants of warm sunlight. "Thank you so much," I said again, turning towards him so he could see I put it on. "It's beautiful."  
"Just like you," he mused, flicking the ash off of his cigarette with a grin.

"...I love you."

Was now the right time to say it?  
Perhaps it was too early. I began to internally panic as the realisation of what I just said sank in.   
To me, in that instant, saying "I love you" felt right. Timing is hard to gauge. The circumstances may have seemed right to me, but I internally cringed as I awaited Damon's response, fearing it was something he might not have been ready to say.   
Love is a powerful word, after all. It's a powerful feeling--a strong commitment--that you don't play around with.   
Love is _serious_. 

I was _seriously_ sure that I was in love with him.

The world seemed to have fallen silent. The sounds of the surrounding city faded out, leaving just me and my thoughts to suffer together. I could only focus on the way he stared at me, eyes unreadable and face stoic, still nonchalantly braced against the wall. It was as if he was searching for some kind of lie, trying to catch the slightest hint of insincerity. 

Of course, he found nothing. 

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile as he put out his cigarette. "I love you, too."

I truthfully never thought I would ever hear those words in this lifetime. It was a long, deep-rooted fear of mine that I would never find someone I could fall in love with, or even start a family with. It all seemed like a distant dream, something that dangled right in front of me but remained just out of reach. Unattainable. To hear someone say they love me, they _genuinely_ love me, was unbelievable, especially when those words came from someone like Damon.   
He deserved the world. He deserved _better_ than me. He was more than capable of finding someone better, too, and we both knew it. He could easily find someone smarter, prettier, and kinder than myself. 

But he didn't want that. He chose me for a _reason,_ and all the words in the English language couldn't accurately explain how that made me feel.

-

I awoke in the middle of the night greeted with the harsh darkness of the hotel room. It was freezing cold despite being buried under the plush blankets, and I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, only the tiniest shred of light entering through the cracks in the blinds. I turned my head to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read 3:42.   
For a moment--in a sleepy daze--I forgot where I was, my eyes scanning cautiously around the room as if expecting something or someone to jump out at me. But the sound of gentle snoring from my left brought me back to the present.

Madrid.   
We left in roughly 5 hours.

I turned to lay on my side so I would be facing Damon, who was sound asleep, nestled comfortably in a cocoon of blankets.  
I observed his features as he slept. He looked so peaceful; face relaxed, lips just slightly parted, hair a mess from tossing and turning throughout the night. It was quite a change from just a few hours prior. The Madrid show was a huge success, but by the end of it, the boys were completely drained of their energy. Damon barely picked at his dinner and almost immediately went to bed after taking a shower. 

I mindlessly reached over to brush some hair away from his face as  
I admired him, my heart feeling so full it might as well burst.   
How did I ever get so lucky?

Settling back down into the warm comfort of the bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin as I moved closer to Damon, reaching out to throw an arm over him.   
In his sleep--almost out of instinct--he pulled me in close, moving his own arm to gently drape over my waist.

I was asleep within minutes.


	12. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter briefly gets a little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) spicy
> 
> Not completely NSFW, but spicy

Paris was somewhere I had dreamed of going ever since I was young. 

It was so painfully close, yet so far. A hop across the English channel, 5 and a half hours away from Leytonstone. Of all the places I bugged my parents to go, Paris was definitely top of the list. I--like many others--longed to see the Eiffel Tower lit up against the dark night sky, the famous artworks of the Louvre, charming side-street cafés, or the stunning gothic architecture that is Notre Dame. So much history and character was packed tightly into one romantic, iconic, bustling city.

Now I was _finally_ there. Tomorrow the band had a day off, meaning we would be in Paris for 2 days as opposed to just one, and I could hardly contain my excitement. There was so much I wanted to do while we were here, though I knew I wouldn't get to do _everything_. I still had a few things at the top of my list.  
Either way, I was just grateful to be here. 

Our first day in Paris was mostly filled with preparations for the show--nothing too exciting. Unfortunately, our flight from Madrid had been delayed, so we arrived in Paris too late to be able to explore the city today. Once we left the airport, we went directly to a hotel as usual, but when we finished unpacking, we took off straight for rehearsals and got to know the layout of the Erotika venue. It was a beautiful building perfectly matched to Paris' nightlife scene, lit up by dozens of lights in the centre of the city, an attractive spot for tourists and Parisians alike. All of the stagehands who helped out and showed us around were incredibly friendly--though I sometimes got thrown off by their thick French accents--and the dressing rooms they took us to were both simple and cozy.  
While the band focused on running through their set, I lingered backstage, eventually falling asleep on the small sofa in Damon's dressing room, where I ultimately remained for much of the evening--I was no help out on stage, so I figured it would be best if I stayed out of the way.  
Not a problem with me. I was exhausted and needed the nap. All of this flying to and fro really drained me of my energy. 

I wonder how Damon managed travelling around so often. It was something he enjoyed, and it wasn't hard to see why, but being away from your friends and family so much has to get a little lonesome. Being a musician seems rewarding in some ways, yet like a curse in others, and this is something he knew first hand. You get to see the world--a privilege most people don't have but would _kill_ for. From Japan to Denmark or Brazil and everything in between, Blur got to visit multiple countries across multiple continents to perform their music, exposing them to so many different cultures. On the other hand, that much travelling _has_ to get tiring. Contantly jumping in and out of planes, vans, changing time zones, changing languages, faces, people, far away from home and friends for days or even weeks at a time...  
That's part of why I was so glad to have been invited; I didn't want Damon to be completely alone, especially now that he doesn't have Justine to fall back on. I thought he could use the company as well as the distraction. 

After rehearsal, I continued to lounge around in the back with the band until the show actually started. It was fantastic, as expected; a full house. For much of the concert, I stood off to the side of the stage, hidden from the view of the crowd but still within sight of the boys, who I watched with amusement. The energy level was insane, everyone was moving and singing, having a total blast. It looked like so much fun to be down there on the floor. I myself watched and sang along, dancing alone backstage, occasionally chatting with some of the crew as they scurried past every now and then. 

As the show neared its end, I noticed Damon looking at me. We made eye contact, and he began waving his hand as if to tell me to walk over to him. My stage fright instantly got the best of me and I vehemently shook my head no, but he persisted, coaxing me out little by little and reassuring me that I would be okay. So, taking a deep breath, I swallowed my pride and slowly began to step out, walking across the stage in full view of the public. I had no clue what was going on. Damon continued to wave me towards him, eventually throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side. My cheeks flushed a little as the crowd talked amongst themselves, a mix of shouting and conversation as they watched us intently. Luckily the stage lights were so bright I couldn't really make out many faces, aside from the very front row. 

Damon--pausing momentarily to catch his breath, as he had been jumping around all night--lifted the microphone and began to speak, his voice sounding a little hoarse from overuse.  
"Right. So before we play the last couple of songs for the night, I'd like you all to meet someone," he started, lightly patting my shoulder as he spoke. My eyes widened as I realised _exactly_ what was happening.  
He was introducing me to the public.  
"This is (Y/n) (L/n). I've known her pretty much my whole life. We were best friends growing up and we reconnected this year. She's just... Wonderful. She's beautiful, intelligent, kind, and overall just such a lovely girl. Really, she's incredible. And I just wanted to say that I'm very, very lucky to have her and be able to call her mine."

With that, he smiled down at me before pulling me in for a kiss. 

Our first real, _proper_ kiss. 

My heart soared and I felt like I was floating. His lips were soft and he was so gentle with me, arm snaking around my waist to hold me close, our lips sweetly molding together. I let my hand rest on his shoulder, a smile creeping onto my face as he kissed me. The crowd below us hollered and whistled, prompting me to turn red from the embarrassment, heat rising to my cheeks turning them a soft reddish-pink. I buried my face into Damon's chest once we pulled apart, a shy attempt at hiding from the watchful eyes of the audience, and he chuckled as he planted a kiss on the top of my head. While I stood in his embrace, the second to last song began to play, inciting even more cheers as the familiar tune of "For Tomorrow" filled the room. One of my favourites.

Damon stood with me throughout the song, occasionally holding the mic out so I could sing with him. I was still quite nervous, and I wasn't exactly the _best_ singer, but it ended up being more fun than I could've imagined.

I retreated back to the safety of Damon's dressing room after the song ended, letting the boys wrap up the night as I sat in the back on the sofa in a complete daze. The feeling of Damon's lips on my own still lingered, a soft tingle that refused to leave, like a ghost's touch. I wished I could savour the feeling forever. I had a permanent grin plastered on my face ever since it happened, my fingertips carefully tracing along my bottom lip in disbelief. Once the show was over and the guys began to trickle back to their dressing rooms, I pounced on Damon the second he opened the door. 

I... Didn't know what came over me.  
All I knew was that I needed more of him. _So_ much more.  
It was a strange feeling I had never really felt before. A longing.  
Filled with a sudden surge of confidence, I pulled him instantly into a passionate kiss, arms thrown around his shoulders and bodies pressed flush against one another. He was caught off guard at first, but quickly began to kiss back with fervour as what I _initially_ intended be a brief kiss rapidly morphed into a heated make-out session. His frisky hands roamed across my body, softly touching and groping, leaving a blazing trail of heat behind on my skin. Things were escalating so quickly I could hardly keep up.  
I let him touch me-- _begged_ him to--all while leaning in to his caresses, his hands dancing near certain areas that made my heart pound against my ribcage. This was the furthest we had ever gone before.  
His eyes locked onto mine, a stern and dominant gleam in them that told me _he_ was the boss here.  
It was a look I had never seen. A look that was _distinctly_ seductive. 

I knew what he wanted. I wanted it, too. 

His hands began to slip down my torso, across my stomach, delicately tracing along my thigh before sliding up to the waistband of my jeans. His fingers barely hooked within them, tugging gently at the fabric to signal he wanted them off. The smallest, faintest moan had _just_ escaped my lips when the door handle jostled, forcing us both to quickly pull away from one another.

It was Alex that intruded, suspiciously looking between us for a second as if to ask, _"What's going on here?"_ He clearly saw what had just been going on and tried to hide a knowing smirk, deciding to be merciful and spare us the embarrassment of being caught. 

"Sorry. I should've knocked," he mused with a cheeky grin. "Could you two come help out with clean up? We've got to load everything back into the van before they lock the doors."

-

Damn these shared hotel rooms.

If it wasn't for the fact that we had to share a room with Graham, Damon and I could've finished what we started back at the venue. 

The whole thing was such a rush. I struggled to grasp the reality of it even now. We had come _so close_ to doing something so intimate, and in a dressing room none the less. I didn't anticipate things going as far as they did, but honestly, I was quite annoyed that we had been interrupted. Once things got started I didn't want it to stop. 

When we arrived back at the hotel, I immediately dropped my bag and sank down into the plush, freshly made bed, grateful to finally be away from the blinding lights and overall loudness of a concert. While Damon excused himself to go take a shower (so he could take care of his now rather obvious _"little problem"_ ), Graham settled into his own bed for the time being, switching on the small TV that sat atop the dresser as Dave made his way to a single chair by the window. Alex had managed to pick up a girl tonight after the show; a young French woman, tall and slim with rosy cheeks and wavy brown hair. I had noticed her hanging around the stage during clean up, and initially I didn't think much of it. But before I knew it, she was in the van with us, headed eagerly for our hotel. Her name was Nadine, but that was all I was able to gather. Much to Dave's dismay, Alex kicked him out of their shared room for the next two or so hours while he and Nadine had some "one on one" time.

We lounged around the room for a good while, the three of us absentmindedly watching a French news programme and trying to sustain conversation despite being extremely tired. As Dave nodded off in his chair, I too eventually rolled onto my side and let my eyes slowly flutter shut, just barely walking the tightrope between being awake and falling asleep. I dozed off only for a few minutes before I was woken up by Graham.  
"Right! I nearly forgot they were filming," he spoke, sitting upright in his bed. "Promotional clips and all that. God, look at my _hair_..."  
I turned my head towards the TV to see footage from tonight's concert being replayed on the news. Professionals had filmed bits and pieces of "Girls and Boys" as well as "Parklife," and I observed the footage with a smile, wishing I could understand what they were saying about it. I'm sure it was nothing but good things. 

Damon soon emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and a towel loosely wrapped around his waist as he rummaged through his belongings, hastily looking for his clothes. He almost immediately noticed the videos being showed on the TV and took a particular interest in the _new_ footage that began to run. I immediately shot upright, eyes glued to the screen as I watched. There was a French translator speaking over it, but it was clear as day what they were showing.

They had filmed him introducing me.

They were showing it on _national television._


	13. Milan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! I usually set my word minimum at 2,000 words per chapter, but I just needed to finally close off this trip so I can progress the story. 
> 
> Hope you've been enjoying!

10 JUNE, 1994

For our much needed day off in Paris, we _finally_ got to do all the exploring that we couldn't on our first day. After a wonderful and delightfully interesting 3 hour group trip to the Louvre, the 17th century Tuileries Garden, and a long stroll through the gorgeous stone-paved streets of Montmartre, Damon and I decided to make it a date, breaking away from the rest of the guys and venturing out on our own.

He took me to the Bouillon Chartier, which, as the name implies, is a traditional bouillon restaurant, founded in 1896 yet still at its prime nearly 100 years later. Nowadays very few bouillons are left, and the Chartier still serves the high-quality yet very affordable French cuisine that is the staple of these kinds of restaurants. After all, they were born from the idea that the people should be able to obtain quality food quickly and efficiently for a good price. The Chartier has been touched by all those--famous and anonymous--who have dined on romantic dates, as a family gathering, or even an outing with friends. It has developed so much more than a simple personality; the people of Paris had given it a soul.

Tucked away down an alley off a side street, this bustling circa-1900 restaurant was a very popular destination, and rightfully so. A queue snaked its way outside the front door, which was bombared with people eagerly awaiting their chance to sit down an eat at this historic landmark. Inside it was a beautifully vast room; tables with white cloth and wooden chairs, silverware and napkins neatly set and waiting for the next occupants. Lovely wooden décor, brasserie mirrors, hand-written chalk menus, and stunning antique chandeliers effortlessly brought out the true historic nature of the place. It was like stepping right into the past. If you looked closely enough at the sideboards, you could even see the racks where regulars would leave their own personal napkins in the 1800s. Elegant and charming to-and-fro servers dressed in white aprons with black vests maneuvered expertly around the tight spaces, unmatched by others in their efficiency and attentiveness. It was truly stunning, an experience I would never forget, and the food was _delicious._  
Best of all, we managed to get through our _entire_ day without being noticed. 

Currently, however, we were in Milan for our final day of the trip, and afterwards we would be heading home for London. Though I was sad to leave, having thoroughly enjoyed my travels, I was also rather eager to get back home to all of my friends and family. I missed everyone dearly and hadn't spoken to any of them since we left. There was never any time to call home. Tonight was the last show, and in truth, I both hoped it would fly by _and_ wished it would last forever. 

Tonight the band played at the Shocking Club, a gorgeous stone building in the heart of Milan. The name dates back to the 1960s, when Shocking first opened its doors underneath Milan’s Smeraldo theatre. It was custom-built into a theatre-sized space, an interesting mixed-up look of baroque gilt and steely industrial layer. The club also featured a large horseshoe-shaped observation gallery from where VIPs could look down at the performances, along with a rather sizeable floor space for crowds to gather and dance. Dozens of people made their way out tonight, as the show was free and open for all to see. Though the set was rather short, being only 9 songs, it was still a wonderful time for us and for the fans respectively. 

After 2 gleefully recieved encores, the show was over, and the rowdy crowd finally began to dissipate as crew started cleaning up and loading all of the equipment back into the van, where our belongings were also already waiting for us. We piled in and went to the airport, prepared for our 2 hour flight home. It was nearly 4 in the morning when we landed, and because Damon had been my ride to Heathrow in the first place, we decided I should just leave my belongings in his car and spend what remained of the night at his house. 

I stumbled up the steps and into the front door in an exhausted daze, barely able to force my eyes open as Damon switched on the lights and dropped his suitcase by the door. I should've just slept on the plane when I had the chance.  
"Come on," he softly said, throwing an arm around me and guiding me up the stairs as my eyes grew heavier. I hummed an incoherent reply, putting all my weight against him as I trudged up the stairs, turning the corner and entering the bedroom where I promptly flopped down onto the mattress like a fish thrown out of water. The soft blanket below me felt wonderful, and if given the chance, I could have easily fallen asleep in under 5 minutes. But instead my eyes lazily trailed after Damon as he poked around the room rather solemnly, making mental note of all the freed up space that now remained from the lack of Justine's belongings.  
She took everything she owned with her and then some. I frowned as I watched Damon helplessly opening drawers in the dresser, half-expecting her things to still be there, checking for clothes in closet and even briefly for her makeup or perhaps a bottle of perfume on the counter. But her half of the closet had been gutted several days prior, and the drawer remained empty no matter how much he wished he could magically make its contents reappear.  
Everything of hers was gone. The house appeared as if she had never even been there. 

"Damon. Please don't prod around too much," I said, eyeing him sympathetically. "You're only going to hurt yourself more and I _hate_ seeing you upset."  
"I know, I know. I just... Guess I didn't think she'd _actually_ leave. It feels so strange not seeing her, not seeing her things here... That was what I was used to for the past 3 years. I'm not used to living alone."  
Justine had been Damon's "security blanket" of sorts. No matter where in the world he went or for how long, he always found comfort in knowing he had someone to come home to. Someone he loved that loved him back. She was the one thing that remained constant in his life aside from his family, and learning to adjust without her wasn't easy.  
"Well, you still have Benjamin," I said, referencing his beloved cat in an attempt to cheer him up. He cracked a half-smile at the comment, which was good enough for me. I sat up on the edge of the bed and pat the space next to me, wordlessly inviting him to sit.  
"I'll have to move again," he added after a few moments of silence. "It's a shame since we just moved here and I really liked this place, but there's no use in having a house this big if it's just me."  
"Where do you think you'll go, then? Are you thinking of a flat?  
"I don't know. Maybe."  
That got me thinking. I gently rested my head on his shoulder, reaching for his hand and entwining my fingers with his.  
"If you'd like, I'm sure Diana wouldn't mind if you stayed with us while you look for a new place," I offered. "Our flat isn't exactly the biggest, and it certainly doesn't compare to a house like this, but still. I have enough space in my room for one more."  
"...Do you really mean that?"  
"Of course I do. So long as Benjamin learns to get along with our cat Mojo, that is."  
That finally got him smiling. I _never_ grew tired of seeing the way his face lit up when he smiled. "You're too sweet to me, you know."  
"Aren't I the one who usually says that?" I giggled, picking my head off his shoulder to look at him. He tilted his head to place a gentle kiss on my lips, softly squeezing my hand as he did.  
God, I was so in love with this man. 

"Let's get to bed before sunrise."


	14. You Look Familiar

Like many children tend to do, I used to fantasize about being famous. Nothing special there; surely the thought occurs to everyone at least once in their lifetime. We live in a world where celebrities are glamourised and treated like Gods. Who _wouldn't_ want that?  
I was an avid daydreamer when I was young, one who liked to space out in class and envision herself as a singer, or perhaps a gifted dancer, or an acclaimed actress of sorts. I longed to be the subject of magazines, having paparazzi follow me around whenever I left the house, getting the full star treatment, capable of dazzling crowds and amassing fans by simply... _Existing._

It seemed like a wonderful life at the time. But one of the most important pieces of advice I have ever recieved was "be careful what you wish for."   
A cliché, but a true one at that.

Who could have guessed that one day _I_ would be the talk of the press--and all because of my boyfriend?

Ever since that damn concert footage aired on French television, the media had been buzzing; _"Pop icon Damon Albarn splits from long-time girlfriend Justine Frischmann!", "Blur frontman Damon Albarn introduces new mystery girlfriend at Paris show!"._ It was everywhere; TV, magazines, the radio, all of it. Word had spread quicker than a wildfire. The press was completely and utterly unavoidable. The only thing they new about me so far was my name, and the public was frighteningly eager to learn more. 

Word was that Justine isn't happy to have learned about our newfound relationship. I knew she had been suspicious of my intentions with Damon from the very beginning, but contrary to whatever she may have believed, everything started 100% innocently. We were merely two long-time friends who had just recently got back in touch, and I had _zero_ intentions of pursuing my romantic feelings for him once I discovered he had a girlfriend. I knew better than that. What Justine _couldn't_ see was that he came to me on his own terms; _He_ was the one who confessed first, and _he_ was the one that asked _me_ to give him a chance. Not the other way around. If he was ready to move on to someone else so soon after his breakup, then who was I to tell him how he should or shouldn't feel? What he should or shouldn't do? That was entirely up to him.   
Only he knows how he feels. Not me, not Justine, not anyone else.

She apparently started some ridiculous rumour making me out to be a homewrecker and accusing Damon of cheating on her, which couldn't have been further from the truth. Damon was very loving and very loyal, something I knew first hand; He regarded women with a great deal of respect and would never even _dream_ of cheating on someone. He had been extremely hurt by the accusation, and with good reason. He gave her his all from beginning to end, _three years_ of his life, and this is what he got in return? All he had done was try to get her help.   
It took a great deal of effort to calm him down after he learned of the situation through a friend, shortly after we returned to London. He was devastated. I had to remind him that it was probably best for all of us if we ignored the claims and let it blow over on its own. If we addressed it publically while the rumour was still relatively unheard of, that would only make matters worse. So far it had spread mostly among he and Justine's mutual friends, not making major headlines as it had yet to fully reach the public. We would deal with that when the time came. 

-

My first taste of this bizzare "honourary celebrity" status came on my first day back at work, just over half way through my 6 hour shift. It was early in the afternoon, which was when the store tended to be at its busiest; there were roughly 20 to 25 people cruising through the aisles of carefully assorted bins, and I had been at the front counter quietly rehashing the last details of my trip with Maya.  
"We had a lot of fun," I concluded, leaning back against the glass countertop behind me with a smile. "I'm glad I went, but I'm also glad to be back. I missed everyone."  
"Ah, you're just saying that. If it had been _me,_ I never would have wanted to leave," Maya mused, glancing up at me from the papers she was filling out. Delivery schedules and all that fun stuff. 

Her attention averted away from me as she noticed a customer approaching, ready to check out. The man muttered a small greeting before setting his stack of records down snd sliding them across the counter whilst Maya rang him up, making small talk every now and then in the process. A queue was beginning to form, so I decided to step in and help by calling up the next person in line--a young man who was purchasing some cassettes--and it didn't take long to notice him peering at me.  
"You look familiar," he noted, studying my face closely. "Have I seen you anywhere recently? Pub, maybe?"  
"No, I don't think so," I answered honestly after observing him for a moment. "I've been out of the country these past few days, so unless you were, too, it was probably somebody else."  
I picked up the next cassette to mark it down on our sales chart and noticed it was Modern Life Is Rubbish. I internally cringed as I remembered the news reports, hoping that _that_ wasn't where he recognised me from.  
"Oh yeah? Where to?"  
"Spain, France, Italy... Not for very long, though. Just a few days."  
"On holiday?"  
"I guess you could say that."  
A silence ensued, but the man kept his gaze on me. I was beginning to get uncomfortable, trying to pretend I didn't notice.  
"Wait a minute... _Now_ I know where I've seen you!" He suddenly said, looking quite proud of himself for remembering. "You were on the news, weren't you? Damon Albarn's new girl? If not, you certainly look alike."  
I started to panic a little, letting out a nervous laugh and a curt nod. I couldn't bring myself to lie, even though I probably should have. I tried to keep things short, not wanting to delve into the topic with a total stranger, but little did I know that this was something I'd have to learn to get used to. I cleared my throat, glancing around quickly and making note of the customers still waiting in line. They most _definitely_ could hear us. "Uh, yeah... I am," I finally answered in a low voice.   
"Sorry to jump in, but that was you?" The woman behind him perked up, stepping out so I could see her. I nodded again, lips pursed into a tight-lipped smile. "You're one lucky girl, that's for sure," she said.  
I wasn't sure how to handle this sudden attention. I tried to remain polite as I carefully bagged the man's items, handing it over to him as he retrieved his money from his wallet.   
"Yes, very lucky," I repeated back to the woman. "He's wonderful."

Instead of taking his bag and leaving, the man decided to linger beside the counter, listening intently as the woman now stepped up, asking her own questions. _How did you meet? How long have you been dating? What's he like? How was the trip?_  
One by one the people formed a small crowd by the counter, until I had about 6 or 7 people swarming me like wolves around a piece of meat. Some people stayed, others left, and some had no idea what all the commotion was even about. I was overwhelmed, trying to manage all the questions at once without getting frustrated, silently wishing I could escape to the back room and hide. How was I supposed to work under these conditions?  
I was managing everything decently well until one man, who stood towards the back of the group, took it too far. "I know it's probably not my place to ask, but I heard some talk and was wondering... Was he _really_ cheating on Justine with you?" He asked, stepping closer and leaning over the counter with a cocky grin plastered on his face. _"You can be honest. Promise I won't tell anyone."_

Maya overheard this and noticed my expression instantly change from discomfort to blatant anger, having taken offence from the question. She immediately rushed in before I could retaliate, stepping out from behind the counter and shooing the group away like a flock of noisy birds. "Alright, alright, that's enough," she said as she ushered them towards the door, arms gesturing wildly. The remaining customers looked on in confusion, unsure of what was happening. "Leave the girl alone," Maya continued, "her relationship is none of your business and you're making her uncomfortable. Thank you for shopping at Inner Groove and have a nice day!" She called, shutting the door promptly behind them. 

I stood behind the counter visibly shaken, watching as the hoard of people disbanded just outside the shop window. My brain struggled to process what had just happened. Maya paced back to counter and placed her hand on my shoulder, shaking gently to get my attention. "Hey. Come with me."  
I followed her through the flimsy beaded curtain that separated the front room from the back; I could still feel the eyes of the remaining customers burning into the back of my head. 

There was a small coffee table with some cheap chairs off towards the corner of the room, and the area more or less served as our break room. I sat down next to Maya, still winded from the events of today.  
"You alright, (Y/n)?"  
"Yeah, I'm alright. I just... Didn't expect all of that, you know?"  
"I get it. I mean, I didn't, either. Kind of forgot you're not just dating some Joe Bloggs," she said with a half-hearted laugh.  
"I mean... Who _says_ something like that?" I asked frantically, not really anticipating an answer. The panic _really_ started setting in now. "This means Justine's rumours have finally reached the public... Shit, _what are we going to do?"_  
"Rumours? What rumours?"  
"She's spread some story around saying that Damon was cheating on her with me, but it's a lie! It's a complete _lie,_ and now it's reached the public... This could ruin his _career,_ Maya! I feel like it's somehow my fault... God, what do I do?"  
"Woah, woah, okay, slow down," she interrupted, putting her hands out as if to physically stop me. "So, let me get this straight. Justine started a rumour that he was cheating? With you?"  
I nodded.  
"Okay. _Definitely_ not good. This is something you need sit down and talk to Damon about, (Y/n). The only way you can combat this is by putting together some kind of... Statement."  
"Well, how would we do that?"  
"Like I said, that's something for the two of you to work out together. I'm really sorry, (Y/n), I hope this blows over soon..."

I slumped down in my seat, my head hitting the wall behind me as I stared up at the ceiling, eyes idly tracing along the maze of pipes while I tried to think. I wondered where Damon was, and if he had already caught wind of this by now. Perhaps Jess called him and told him, or maybe he saw something on TV. As much as I knew the news would upset him, I didn't want to be the one to break it to him. I doubted I could handle the stress since a huge part of me felt that this was my fault.

And maybe it was. Maybe if I hadn't put my head on his shoulder when he was showing me that photo album, she wouldn't have seen it and therefore wouldn't have been suspicious in the first place. Then again, maybe she was just jealous by nature. I didn't know her well enough to make a claim like that, so there was really no telling. 

All I knew what that we had to act, and soon. Otherwise, who knows what would happen...


	15. Music Television

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I have an interview for an internship in London in about 3 hours but I wrote this instead of preparing for it because anxiety.  
> Enjoy!

"Oh, I've heard. _Believe_ me, I've heard."  
He tilted his chair so he was balancing his weight on the back two legs, a bitter, forced smile on his face as he fiddled with his cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers and stared straight ahead at the window, lost in thought.  
It was getting dark out and the room was mostly emptied, its contents having been carefully packed away into an assortment of different moving boxes over the past few hours. I had been helping Damon pack his things as he prepared to temporarily move in with Diana and I, where he would likely be for the next month or so as he searched for a new flat. His bigger pieces of furniture were to be moved into storage, while his personal belongings would be moved to our flat later in the week. While we had taken a break from our efforts, I decided to bring up the dreaded topic of rumours, where I told him about my experiences from work--namely, being asked if the cheating rumours were true.  
"So you know this is sort of... Blowing up in the news, then?" I asked, vaguely fearing his response.  
He nodded as he lit his cigarette, running a hand through his hair with a tired sigh. This was all so unfair. He had already been through so much this past year; moving, touring, breaking up, getting over an addiction... This was the last thing he needed. I put my head in my hands while my elbows rested on my knees, eyes glued to the wooden floors below me.  
"I'm sorry, Damon. I feel terrible about all of this..."  
He stopped rocking in his chair, setting it back down and squinting at me in confusion. " _Sorry?_ Why are you sorry?"  
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I shook my head as my vision clouded over, the hot tears gradually obscuring my sight, and I tugged my jacket sleeve over my hand to dry my eyes. "This is all my fault," I mumbled, the words coming out as a strange mix between a choked sob and an exhasperated laugh. "This could really hurt your career, you know? And I feel so guilty. You don't deserve any of this, and I just--"  
"Hold on, hold on. (Y/n), this is _not_ your fault," he insisted, cutting me off before I could even finish the thought. He turned in his seat to fully face me, his expression both soft yet pressing. "This is affecting you just as much as it is me. You did _nothing_ to cause this, and quite frankly, I don't see how you could even jump to that kind of conclusion."  
"She _hates_ me, Damon. We both know that. From the minute we first met I _knew_ she was suspicious of me and my intentions with you. Maybe I should've just stayed away or something... It would've saved us so much trouble..."  
"That's just how she is, (Y/n). Justine's gone mental, and _that's_ what caused this. Not you. What you need to understand is that you are _so_ worth the rumours. We both know that what she's saying is a fabricated lie, and _that's_ what's truly important here. No rumour could ever change the way I feel about you."  
I furrowed my brow in confusion, eyeing him warily as I curled in on myself in my seat, still feeling the guilt gnaw away at me. "I... I don't understand."  
"(Y/n), I would go through all of this again in an instant for you. If you had 'stayed away,' I would have been completely miserable without you. Having you back in my life is one of the best things that has ever happened to me."  
"...Do you seriously mean that?"  
"Why wouldn't I? I love you, (Y/n). I really, really do," he said, reaching over to take my hand in his. "Everything will be fine. Just, please, _don't_ blame yourself. This isn't your fault."  
"I love you too," I whispered, squeezing his hand lightly for reassurance. No matter how many times he said it, each time those words reached my ears, I got butterflies. He made me so unbelievably happy.  
"How should we go about this?" I asked after a moment. "What's going to happen next?"  
"Well... I was thinking about talking it through in an interview. I get asked to do them quite a lot and I feel like either television or the radio would be the best way to get the message across. Whichever offer comes in first, I suppose."  
-  
That offer came just 2 days later on Sunday, the 19th of June.

The offer in question was for an episode of MTV's Most Wanted, a highly-rated show that Damon had appeared on numerous times before and was quite familiar with. Filmed and broadcasted from London, the show featured many different segments, such as competitions, games, live music performances and music videos, as well as heavy viewer-interaction. The host was Ray Cokes, a funny, eccentric man who the public adored and Damon got along well with. MTV's Most Wanted was the most popular daily show on the channel, so it seemed to be the _perfect_ platform to clear the air.

Damon quickly agreed to the interview, and asked me to accompany him. 

Once we arrived at MTV Studios and formally began the interview, I left the talking to Damon, watching from behind the camera crew as he and Ray talked, heavily discussing the current status of the tour, upcoming music, and eventually, his new relationship. My heart began to pound the second the subject came up, noticing how Ray gestured to me from the sofa on stage.  
"I see your lovely new girlfriend is here, yes?"  
"Yes, right over there," Damon confirmed, smiling over towards me. I sheepishly waved towards the pair, unsure of how to respond. Should I stay quiet? Should I speak?  
Ray determined all of that for me.  
"Why don't we get her up here, huh? Come on up, love, don't be shy! Take a seat!"  
I hesitated at first but ultimately let my feet carry me up towards the stage, heart jumping into my throat. The lights were bright and blinding, and the camera crew turned their massive cameras to follow me as I took a seat beside Damon, fussing with my hair and wringing my hands together anxiously. I tried my best to put on a happy demeanour, but my nerves still came through.  
"There we go!" Ray announced, welcoming me with a warm smile. "Pleasure to meet you. And your name is?"  
"(Y/n)."  
"(Y/n). Beautiful name. And what do you do, (Y/n)?"  
"Oh, I work at a record shop. Nothing special," I laughed.  
"Record shop sounds like a great place to work. I think so, at least. Right then! Now, how exactly did the two of you meet?"  
I turned to Damon, signaling him to answer. This was _his_ interview, after all.  
"Our parents were very good friends," he began to explain. "They all knew each other long before either of us were born. We grew up living one street apart, so we saw each other quite a lot as children and became very close."  
"Since you were _children_? What made you wait so long to 'pop the question', then?" Ray asked. This time Damon looked to me with an encouraging nod, signaling it was _my_ turn to speak. Though I didn't really want to, I took a deep breath and tried to find the right words.  
"Well... My dad got a new job that relocated my family to America when I was 14. I lived in New York City for 12 years before moving back to London earlier this year. We had fallen out of touch shortly after I moved, so there had been a 12 year gap of no contact between us."  
"I thought your accent sounded a bit American," Ray observed. I heard that so often that I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. "So this year was the first time either of you had seen or heard from each other since, when would that be... 1982? Is that correct?"  
"Yes, that's right. August of 1982."  
I could feel Damon place his hand on my leg just above my knee, his thumb gently sliding back and forth in a soothing motion, making me smile a little to myself. Being interviewed on television was so surreal, and having him there made me feel a lot more at ease.  
"So, if you hadn't seen one another for that long, and (Y/n)'s family moved to America, how did you find each other again?"  
"My mum stayed in England when my dad and I moved," I explained, absentmindedly placing my hand atop Damon's. "I got the address of his parents through her and went to visit one day, just to stop by and say hello. His sister was home at the time, and from there she helped us get back in touch."  
"What an interesting story," Ray said, grinning. "You don't hear about things like that often! But, if you don't mind me asking... I'm sure the two of you have heard about some rumours that have been circulating. Now, what's all that about?"  
"I'm actually sort of glad you asked," Damon chuckled, though not from amusement; It was what I could only describe as a stress laugh, void of happiness and brought on from exhaustion and nervous tension. 

This was _literally_ the moment we had been waiting for. 

"Justine and I haven't been getting along very well these past few months. I won't go into great detail because I still respect her and her privacy, but we had been fighting a lot about certain things pertaining to her health. _Especially_ around the time that (Y/n) came back into my life. All of this talk of cheating is just pure nonsense," he spoke, his words laced with the slightest twinge of frustration. I moved my hand from atop his in favour of holding it; It was a subtle way to ground him so his emotions wouldn't get the better of him. "Justine was jealous," he continued, glimpsing briefly at our intertwined hands. "That's what it all boils down to, really. She was jealous because in the midst of our fighting, I confided in (Y/n) and spent a lot of my free time with her. I suppose this is just her way at trying to hurt us, or get back at me somehow."  
"You seem pretty forgiving towards her, even amongst all of this. Why is that?"  
"All I did was try to help her, and she pushed me away--but I know she's not in the right state of mind. She needs serious help that I just can't provide her. I'm not going to scrutinise her for acting out, and I'm not holding any sort of grudge against her for this. I just want to see her improve."

An unsettlingly serious ending to what started out as a light-hearted discussion. The interview itself was followed by some pointless games to fill up show time, but all I could think about was the issue at hand.  
What was said needed to be said, and Ray seemed to understand this, despite being a little lost. Damon was not just going to reveal Justine's addiction to the public like it was nothing. He _had_ to be vague. Ray never pressed for details, though it was clear he wanted to.

MTV's Most Wanted was broadcasted live directly from the studio. Every second we were filming, it was going straight on the air for all to see. As I sat on the sofa under the wide assortment of lights and cameras, I anxiously wondered what the viewers must have thinking right now. What would come of this in the long run? Would Justine issue another statement? Would the public brush Damon's claim to innocence aside and pin him as unfaithful? It was all so unclear. 

We had done what we needed to do.  
Now? We wait.


	16. "Please?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHHH IM SO SORRY FOR THE HIATUS, I AM BACK NOW!
> 
> Been so swamped with the end of the school year/graduation that I needed a break to wrap things up without stressing about updating the story. But now that all that fun jazz is over I can get back to it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has followed this story this far. I have some exciting things planned so stayed tuned!!
> 
> NOTE: "Annie" is Annie Holland, bass player for Elastica.

26 JUNE

It's officially been one week since Damon and I appeared on MTV's Most Wanted. 

…What a strange thing to say. 

It was certainly quite an experience meeting Ray Cokes and being interviewed on national television; since then, things had been unusually quiet in the media. Rumours still circulated as they normally would, but they eventually hit a plateau as interest in the situation dulled out. The news was growing old and people didn't seem to care as much. No drama, no confrontation--why bother? The people wanted action. They wanted fighting, they wanted scandal, and those are things there were not about to get. There was still no word from Justine, though she surely _must_ have seen the interview by now. It was making headlines left and right, and a musician in this day and age can't simply ignore MTV. It’s everywhere.

I thought it was a bit unusual that Justine never came out to issue another statement. This entire time I would have been willing to bet actual money that she would retaliate within a matter of days. If she was truly that hell bent on hurting us, she surely would have said something by now. One week is far too long to let something like this slide. We had been anxiously awaiting the news of another rumour or some claim of proof all week, and each day brought with it a new wave of anticipation. 

Anticipation for something that never came.

It was during this period in limbo that Damon finally moved in with Diana and I. What a process that was… I spent several days clearing out all the junk taking up space in my room before he arrived--I tore my closet apart, sorting my newer clothes from my old ones and getting rid of some beat up, rugged-looking trainers I barely ever wore. I had a tendency to hoard things, namely my own clothes. My room was often messy more than it was clean, so this de-cluttering was long overdue, like a belated spring cleaning. I carefully analysed the room and cleared it out bit by bit, trying to determine what to keep and what to get rid of. Damon wasn't bringing much with him aside from personal belongings like clothing, a few instruments, some books and all of the things he bought for Benjamin, but I still had to make space for what he _did_ have. Because our flat wasn't exactly the biggest, we really needed all the space we could get. While the majority of his things found their place with minimal struggle, there was only room for one bed, which we ultimately decided to share, as the queen-sized mattress was the perfect size for two people. It was a little bit bizarre waking up beside him in the mornings and seeing his things scattered around my room; I was so used to having the place to myself that for the first few days I had to keep reminding myself that he was here. I would stumble across a collared shirt I never saw before, or a piece of paper that certainly didn't have my handwriting on it and be brought back to reality. Typically couples wouldn’t move in together this early on, but things felt right. Like he was meant to be here.

Today I woke up to an empty bed and the sound of soft chatter coming from the other side of the door, the subtle scent of food indicating that someone was cooking breakfast. It had to be Diana, I thought, as she often liked to cook up elaborate meals on Sundays, from a simple meal of bacon and eggs to waffles or pancakes with sausage. The distinct scent of cinnamon made me perk up, so I readjusted my pajamas as I slowly clambered out of bed. Taking a quick look at the time, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and trudged to the bathroom, my (h/c) hair sticking up in every direction from a terrible case of bedhead. My eyes were noticeably tired, as I wanted nothing more than to go back to the dark comfort of my room and sleep just a little bit longer. I quickly brushed my teeth and tamed my unruly hair before making my way out to the living room, looking only semi-presentable.

Diana was, in fact, making breakfast; French toast. She was totally absorbed in her cooking, dashing to and fro as she gathered ingredients and carefully dipped the bread into a mixture of egg, vanilla, and cinnamon. Diana always loved cooking, and sometimes she wished she had gone into culinary school instead of pursuing a degree in finance. When we first met in high school, it wasn’t peculiar to see her handing out homemade cookies or a fresh batch of brownies to our classmates every other week. Cooking was a precise art--one that she had a natural aptitude for--and it made her happy. It was a distraction and means of expression for her, just like music is for Damon and drawing is for myself. Just as she dropped the slices of bread one by one into the frying pan, she finally seemed to notice my presence, her deep brown eyes shifting over to glimpse at me. She smiled nonchalantly, waving a spatula around in her hand.  
"Morning," she said cheerily. "I'm making French toast! Should be done in a few minutes, so I hope you're hungry. Could you grab the strawberries out of the fridge?"  
I nodded, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a plastic tub filled with fresh strawberries that she had picked up last time we went out for groceries. I set the tub on the counter and quickly thanked her in advance for the food, letting her return to her cooking undistracted. 

In the living room, Damon sat on the sofa in his pajama bottoms and a loose-fitting t-shirt, Benjamin curled up and asleep in his lap while he switched back and forth between the news and MTV. He looked almost bored, his glassy eyes indicating that he wasn't really paying attention, but rather he was daydreaming. I observed him silently for a moment, watching as he absentmindedly fiddled with Benjamin’s paw, the sight making me grin from ear to ear. He didn't seem to notice me right away, so I plopped down in the empty space beside him, my head leaning gently against his shoulder and humming a soft greeting.  
"Good morning," he grinned, coming out of his trance-like state.   
"Morning. Anything new? Has she said anything yet?" I asked, gesturing to the TV. There was nothing but music videos playing on MTV at the moment, and he shook his head no, just as I expected.  
"Not yet. She's more or less gone into hiding."  
"Hiding? Huh. I wonder why..."  
"She's probably afraid of the retaliation," he guessed, moving Benjamin out of his lap as he stood up and stretched. "I told Ray we had been fighting about her health, and the vagueness of that statement has drawn a lot of attention. She doesn't want anyone to find out about her addiction and probably thinks I'll out her on it."  
"So she's hiding out of fear it will go public."  
"Exactly."

Seemed reasonable enough to me. 

Our conversation was cut short by Diana calling us to the kitchen. Damon went to grab the plates and set the table while I grabbed the silverware and cups, carefully and neatly arranging everything on the table as Diana brought the food out. She served us each before taking a seat at the table, where we ate in a comfortable silence. The food was delicious, as it always was.  
Around halfway through our meal, the phone began to ring.   
"I'll get it," I said, setting my fork down and rising from my seat to answer it. I picked up the phone and put it to my ear, leaning back against the wall as I spoke. "Hello?"  
"Hi. Um, is this (Y/n) (L/n)?"  
The female voice sounded _vaguely_ familiar, but not enough for me to fully recognize it. None of us had been expecting a call, so I hadn't a clue who it was. "Yes, it is. May I ask who's calling?"  
"...It's Justine. Frischmann. Is Damon there?"  
I could feel my blood run cold in that very instant. So many questions ran through my head; How did she get this number? Why did she need him? What took her so long? My eyes widened, and I shifted to look at Damon, who wasn't paying attention. He was chatting with Diana, and I hated to interrupt--especially during breakfast. I grimaced, unsure of what to do.  
"Um... One second please," I said, quickly covering the phone with my hand so she couldn't hear. "Damon. Justine is on the phone. She... Wants to talk to you?"  
A look of surprise washed over him as he slowly stood up and reached for the phone, confused and albeit a little nervous. I carefully passed it to him and went to retrieve the TV remote so I could turn the volume down. Despite not being able to hear Justine on the other end of the line, I watched Damon’s every move carefully, trying to deduce his emotions and infer what she may or may not be saying through his expression. He was quite expressive, after all.

"Justine?"  
"Hi."  
"...How did you get this number?" Damon asked, brows furrowed and lips pursed.  
"I spoke to your sister. She told me this is where you were living now."  
The line went silent for a moment as neither person spoke. There was nothing left that Damon wished to tell her. He said everything he needed to on MTV's Most Wanted, and _she_ was the one who called, after all. Naturally he assumed there was something she had to say, but whether she would actually get the words out or not was another story. Damon crossed his arms and impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for her to just spit it out already. 

“I’m sure it’s the last thing you want right now, but we need to talk. Can we?”  
“Is that not what we’re doing right now?”  
“I meant in _person,_ ” she grumbled, not taking his sarcasm lightly by any means. “Look. I’m staying at Annie’s for the time being. Haven't got a flat yet. You remember how to get here, don’t you?”  
"You want me to drive to _Annie's?"_  
" _Please,_ Damon. There are things I want to say that I feel are better said in person. Can you come? Preferably alone?"  
“You _do_ realize you’re asking me to drive an hour out of my way to Brighton on a Sunday morning, right? I've got a show in Pilton tonight and that's already a 3 and a half hour ride. You're asking a lot of me, Justine."  
" _Please._ This is important and I promise I won't waste your time. I just... I really need to talk to you."

He paused to consider it. She certainly sounded like she meant it, but after everything she just put him through, why should he bother? Why should he give her the time of day? He shot me a look of uncertaintly, not knowing if this was a good idea. I didn't have the full context, so I simply stared back, waiting for him to answer. It was currently 8:30; if he left now, he'd make it to Brighton by around 9:45 if he was lucky. So long as he was in Pilton on time, he should--in theory--be okay.  
Was he _really_ going to do this?

"...Alright. I'll be there in an hour, give or take. I'm staying for twenty minutes and no more, got it?"  
She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank you."

He hung up the phone and stared at it blankly, unsure of what he just agreed to. He didn't know what exactly he was getting himself into, but all he knew was if they were going to talk, then he needed to leave. _Now._  
He rushed into to our shared room and re-emerged seconds later with a jacket that he threw on with feverish haste. He was still wearing his pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, but there was no time to change.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he struggled to put on his shoes fast enough. "Did I hear you say you were going to _Brighton?"_  
"Yeah. Justine wants to talk face to face, so..."  
"Well, what about Pilton? You still have to come back, get changed, gather your things... Will you make it there on time?"  
He stood, making sure his trainers were properly laced up before giving me a quick but reassuring peck on the lips. "I'll be back soon, I promise. I'm only staying a few minutes and then I'm headed straight back here, alright?"  
"Okay. Just... Please be careful."

Once he left, I sunk down in my chair at the table, idly poking at the cold remains of my breakfast with a fork. I wish I could've heard that damn phone call--she wanted him to go all the way to Brighton just to talk, huh? It surely must have been important then. Right?  
Diana slid into the seat beside me, forcing a smile.  
"Hey (Y/n). You okay?"  
"Nervous," I answered honestly, dropping the fork against the plate with a clang. "We waited _all week_ for her to say something and she just wants to talk in private. I'm part of this, too, so don't I have a right to know? I really, really want to know what she says..."  
"I'm sure Damon will tell you when he gets home. Try not to think about it too much, okay? I'm sure everything will be fine."

The way I pictured it, their talk could go one of two ways; the rumours get resolved and everyone goes their own way, or the rumours get worse and it turns out all of this was only the beginning of the storm. I wouldn't know for another few hours, and I really hoped Diana was right. 

I wanted things to be okay, but Justine was unpredictable.


	17. Familiarity

By time Damon arrived at Annie Holland's Brighton home, it was 10:52 and he was _thoroughly_ irritated.

Not only had there been an accident that significantly delayed traffic and made him much later than he intended, but he got lost on his way to find the house itself. He could've _sworn_ he remembered exactly how to get there, but then again, last time he drove here was a good 3 years ago. By time he located the correct street and, ultimately, the correct house, he knocked firmly on the door and realised he was _well_ over half an hour late. Cursing under his breath as he waited on the stoop, he tried to mentally calculate just how long he had before he'd have to start his journey back to London--which he wasn't looking forward to.

Annie came to the door after about a minute, a rugged smile tugging at the corners of her thin lips as she muttered a quiet hello and pulled Damon into a hug. He immediately noticed that her dark brown hair was longer now than it used to be--shiny and thin, just barely at her collarbone, with a stringy fringe wisping across her forehead. Her jawline was sharp and her cheekbones prominent, smudges of black eyeliner drawing all the attention to her most prominent feature; her wide, doe-like eyes. Annie had a very distinct face that you couldn't forget once you'd seen it, and it was fair to say Damon never did.   
She stepped aside to let him in, looking him up and down as if to refresh her memory, searching for the telltale signs of the old Damon she used to know. He had changed _a lot_ since they last saw one another--back then, Blur was just starting to get some traction, and he was a complete mess--but she on the other hand hadn't changed much at all.  
"Good to see you finally got rid of that ridiculous bowl cut," she jested, earning a chuckle from Damon as she shut the door behind him. "That was quite the look, wasn't it? Anyways, jokes aside, I know you're in a hurry. Justine's in the kitchen," she said, pointing down the hallway. "Down there to the right. You can't miss it."  
He followed her directions into the kitchen, where he found Justine sitting at a glass table, miscellaneous papers strewn about in front of her in a messy heap. It was clear she had been working on something--likely new material for Elastica--but she felt a presence enter the room and quickly looked away from her work. She set her pen down, unable to stop staring at the familiar face that she now found herself faced with.   
One that brought her so much joy--and so much pain.   
Where to begin?

She wordlessly gestured to the empty seat beside her, silently asking him to sit down. He complied, slowly making his way over and pulling out the chair, turning it so he could face her. Neither one offered any sort of greeting to the other; no hello, no nod, no smile. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. They looked at one another expectantly, almost as if they anticipated a fight. 

And maybe they _would_ fight. Who knows where this conversation would end up.

"Why am I here?" Damon asked, finally breaking the awkward silence. He kept his gaze on Justine, who kept her own eyes on the table, unmoving and locked on one spot. "I haven't got a lot of time to spare, Justine. I was already late getting here and I _cannot_ afford to be late to Worthy Farm. So, once again, _why am I here?"_  
"I don't know where to start, okay? None of this is easy to say," she said, picking nervously at her nails. "I've... Had a lot of time to think. And I've come to some conclusions."  
" _Please_ just say it. I really, really don't have time to wait."  
"Well, firstly... I've decided I'm ready to get help."

He stared her down with such intensity that she couldn't look at him for longer than a second. He scanned every last detail of her face for any trace of dishonesty, hesitant to believe that she had _really_ come to terms with the idea of rehab given how much she protested when they were together. She simply stayed in place, hunched over and staring at the table, giving no signals that he could pick up on.  
"Do you _really_ mean that?" He asked for clarity. She nodded, a tight-lipped frown on her face.   
"I... Had a real bad scare this past week. I don't want to go into the details, but I really think I could've died. It scared me enough to make me rethink everything you told me, and I finally realised it's just a matter of time before it kills me." She looked up with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, her emotions starting to get the best of her. She quickly wiped them away with her finger, not wanting him to see her so vulnerable. "You were right. I'm sorry." 

A heartfelt apology and a realisation of her own inevitable fate. It was as if a massive weight was lifted off of Damon's shoulders knowing he wouldn't have to fear for her anymore; all of the hours he stayed up with her as she got violently sick from withdrawals, the nights she would sneak out to get high and disappear until the following afternoon. He wouldn't have to worry about her overdosing or getting in trouble anymore, because she would be in the hands of trained professionals who could help get her life back on track, and that was all he ever wanted for her. If rehab helped _him_ kick the habit, then it would surely help her, too.   
"That's wonderful, Justine. You really don't understand how happy it makes me to hear you say that."  
"That's not all," she started, her worried face still unchanging. "I've been thinking about a lot more than just that. I want you to know that I'm _so_ sorry for everything I put you through. The rumours, the fighting, the breakup, all of it. I know I must've scared you to death a thousand times and, quite frankly, I treated you like shit when all you were trying to do was help me. I really regret everything I did, and... And I was wondering if we could start over."  
"What do you mean by 'start over'? What's done is done."   
"I know, I mean..." She hesitated, choking on her own words. There was no way to soften the blow. "I mean... I want to get back together. Start from the beginning and fix everything that I ruined. I love you, Damon, and there is no doubt in my mind about it. I don't want to lose you all because of my dumb choices."

Damon could feel an eerie shiver instantly shoot up his spine as he took in her words. It was as if his whole body froze, unable to move like a deer in headlights with his heart pounding incessantly against his ribcage. He should have instantly refused the offer, but a peculiar wave of confusion suddenly befell him, making him feel sick to his stomach with uncertainty.

He adored (Y/n). They've been dating for about a month now, and Damon could say with absolute certainty that he was happy with her. (Y/n) cared for him in a way no one else had before, and they had a special, unique, one-of-a-kind relationship that he _didn't_ want to lose. The fact that they still had such a strong connection after all those years apart _should_ provide some insight into their budding romance, as well as his dedication to her. He was willing to walk to the ends of the earth for (Y/n), and yet here he was, doubting his feelings. Though he loved her and she loved him, he and Justine had been together for _years,_ and that's not something you can easily move on from in a mere month. He had really, truly, _genuinely_ loved her, too. This was the woman he had previously been certain he would settle down and have children with, the one he went through several homes with, and the one thing that remained constant throughout his hectic, extremely publicized life. He had found a home in Justine, and it was much harder to leave than he initially thought it would be. A strange warmth spread throughout his chest as he sat there with her; a steady rekindling of past feelings that he didn't know he still harboured. He thought he was over her by now, but it was like his heart had been reignited at that very instant. It raised a very important question: Once you love someone, do you ever _truly_ stop loving them?

"You... _Do_ remember I'm with (Y/n) now, right?"  
"I know."  
"Then why would you ask me something like that?"  
She leaned in close, taking his hand into her own and squeezing it tight. Part of him wanted to pull away, but he didn't move. He couldn't. _"Come on, Damon. After all the years we've been together, you're sure you don't still love me? Not even a little bit?"_ She whispered. She made a bold move, pressing her forehead to his and pulling their entwined hands close to her chest, not wanting to let go. Their faces were inches apart and he was forced to look her in the eyes from this very intimate position. He felt intimidated, but simultaneously was in too much shock to move. " _5 years_ we've been together. You can't just move on that fast--we have a history, Dee. What I'm saying is that we can start over and things can go back to the way they _used_ to be. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He could feel his face flush, and greatly wished in that moment that he could just stand up and run far, far away.  
"It's not that simple, Justine," he said, pulling away from her defensively. She jumped, startled by his sudden movements, and he looked down at his watch to check the time. "Shit, why did you have to unload all of this on me _now?_ Christ... Just... Give me some time to think about it, alright? I have to go."

-

I had been sitting on the living room floor playing with the cats when I heard the front door being unlocked, signaling Damon's return from his talk with Justine. My heart jumped into my throat and I stood up lightening fast when the door opened, filled to the brim with questions. "Hey, how'd it go? Is everything okay?" I asked, immediately jumping into interrogation mode the second he came inside. I really hadn't meant to come off so eager, but the suspence was _killing_ me, almost to the point of being physically sick. Damon stepped in with a dazed sort of look on his face--which I found a bit odd--and made his way directly to our room without a word. It was now almost noon and he had roughly 5 hours to get to Pilton, so I figured he just wanted to get ready as soon as possible without wasting any more time standing around and talking. I decided to trail after him, shutting the door behind me and plopping down on the bed, watching as he rummaged through the closet in an attempt to assemble an outfit. He still hadn't said anything regarding my first statements, so I tried again.   
"Did everything go okay? What did she tell you?"  
"She apologised," he said, a hint of irritation laced into the words. He didn't say any more than that as he pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans from the closet, tossing them onto his side of the bed and beginning to peel his current shirt off. I continued to sit in silence as he started to get changed, trying to debate if I should continue to pester him or just leave him be. I tried asking a third time, but he kept his gaze away from me and stayed silent, and _that's_ when I started to realise that there might be more to the story than he was letting on. He wasn't usually the type to be secretive, and I prided myself on being quite good at reading people.  
I could tell there was something he was hiding. 

"Are you _sure_ that's all? I mean, you're acting kind of strange, Dee."  
"Yes, I'm _sure_ that's all," he stated firmly. "I'm fine."  
"I just feel like there's something you're not telling me... Please just be honest with me. _Did she say something else?"_  
" _No._ I already told you that's all she said. I have to get ready now, okay (Y/n)? I don't want to talk about this anymore. So could you _please_ just... Go back out there or something?" He snapped, gesturing to the door and hoping I would take the hint. "Just _drop it._ Alright?" 

He had never gotten upset with me before, and it was honestly a little frightening seeing that uncharacteristic gleam of anger in his eyes. My heart began to race as I immediately stood up and left the room, shutting the door promptly behind me and making my way back to the living room, unconsciously trying to put as much space between Damon and I as possible. My head was spinning from confusion as I sank down onto the sofa in defeat and realised we had just had our first fight.

Like I told Diana, I was a part of this, too, so I felt I had a right to know what went on in Brighton, even if Damon seemed to think differently.   
He had left that afternoon without saying goodbye, and it stung in a way that I just couldn't explain. I wouldn't be able to see him again until the 5th, which was an entire week and 2 days from now, and I couldn't bare the thought of being ignored by him the entire time. I hated seeing him in such a bad mood, and not even one hour into him leaving I had already missed him _so_ much. He was one of my best friends, and more importantly, my _partner_ \--I loved him, but what else could I possibly do? He would be on the road for the next 9 days, so trying to contact him would be a bit difficult.

I spent the rest of the day replaying the events over and over again in my mind, wondering what on earth I had done wrong and how I was going to fix it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this so far, please let me know! Comments always encourage me to keep writing.


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